


Magnetic

by MissMarquin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Best Friends to Lovers, Boys In Love, Boys learning about themselves, Destiny, Drama, Eventual Smut, Fate, I guess this could be technically sci-fi, M/M, Romance, Short Story, Soulmates, boys growing up, predetermined love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarquin/pseuds/MissMarquin
Summary: In the future, romantic attraction is literal: each person is fitted with an electromagnetic bracelet which will pull you to your soulmate. It's hard, wondering who's out there for you. It's harder yet, when you have to come to understand yourself first.





	1. Domain

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a short story that I've been knocking around for awhile, and I'm really glad to get cracking on it, tbh. My sister sent me this romance short story prompt, and I decided to roll with it, you know? I'm pretty happy with my outline and I'm excited for the result. 
> 
> Thanks to the angryuniverse as always, for her help in fleshing all this shit out.

**_Domain_ **

 

_‘A magnetic domain is a region within magnetic material in which the magnetization is uniform in one direction.’_

 

* * *

 

Eighteen was a big year for many, but turning twenty is what people _truly_ waited for.

Otabek had never really given it much thought, he supposed. Amita might not have been his _initial_ choice of who he’d want to spend his life with forever, but she had since grown on him-- not unlike a fungus. She was sharp and quick-witted, and he had to admit that his parents had made a good choice. Really, they had. He and Amita just _worked_ together, their relationship didn’t require much effort.

So the ceremonious _receiving of the Destiny Bracelet_ wasn’t so ceremonious for him. He didn’t want to fuck up something that was good for him.

“ _It’s such a stupid fucking name,_ ” Yuri said through the phone screen. Amita rolled her eyes, as she held the phone out, and Otabek smirked back at the video feed. “ _Destiny Bracelet_. What is this, some shitty fucking rom-com?”

“Hey now,” Amita pouted, leaning around so Yuri could see her through the screen. “ _Some_ people like shitty rom-coms.”

“ _I guess you’re allowed to_ ,” Yuri said with a genuine smile. “Y _ou’re special though.”_

Really, Otabek’s luck couldn’t be better. Yuri was the most important person in the world to him, at the end of things, and he fucking _loved_ Amita. They were practically partners-in-crime themselves.

“ _What’s the point anyhow_?” Yuri continued griping. “ _It’s not like you aren’t getting married regardless. You and Amita are stupidly in love_.”

Otabek and Amita shared an amused glance, and he said, “Why not? It’s not like it’s going to _hurt_ me, you know? Besides, Mom is curious.” Not _his_ mom, just _Mom_ , the woman who had seen Yuri _once_ before instantly adopting him as her own. Much to the boy’s aggravation.

Yuri snorted, rolling his eyes. Otabek wasn’t sure that he was _stupidly in love_ with Amita, but he was happy and honestly, that was more than he could ask for. There was a mild fear that the bracelet would want to pull him somewhere else, but many people ignored it anyway. The journey of finding _that soulmate_ wasn’t worth it to some.

Otabek was okay with that. He wasn’t the kind for grand romantic gestures or sweeping adventures. It was less work to stay in his tidy little bubble, and it suited him.

“Are we all ready in here?” A voice piped from the doorway. Everyone turned to meet a middle-aged man, the proctor in charge of attaching and turning on the gizmo. Otabek nodded and he whisked into the room, settling into the rolling stool beside the bed.

“ _I was I could be there for this_ ,” Yuri muttered. “ _I wish I could see the annoyance on your face, the moment that bracelet beeps._ ”

Such a Yuri thing to say and do, to take pleasure in the vexation of others.

“ _Someone_ has rehearsal to be at, you know,” Amita chided. “ _Someone_ scored a spot in the Bolshoi Ballet Company, so that _someone_ needs to stay put and not burn bridges before they are even built.”

Yuri sighed and Otabek hid a smile behind a carefully placed cough. Yuri wouldn’t listen to him, but he would _always_ listen to her, begrudging as it was.

“Hold out your arm now,” the proctor interrupted cheerfully. Otabek did as he was told and the man fitted a length of cool metal around his wrist. It wasn’t his first time seeing one and it wouldn’t be his last, but he was always surprised by how _boring_ it looked. Just a simple chain of lightweight links, fitted with neat and elegant looking square. The way it worked was a carefully guarded secret, but it _worked_ and that’s all people cared about.

The point of the Destiny Bracelet was to make people happy, not make money and so, the world-wide program had been adopted free of charge. Yuri had always said it was stupid, because it could have made billions. He wasn’t wrong.

“As you probably already know, there’s nothing really needed to know about it’s use,” the proctor said. “It’s waterproof and practically indestructible, so you don’t need to worry about that. It can easily be removed if so wished, and once put back on, instantly kicks into gear again. No fancy buttons or doohickies,” he finished with a laugh. “You ready?”

Otabek shrugged and the man took a thin little tool, about the size of a paperclip, and shoved it into the pin-sized hole on the square. The bracelet beeped, indicating that it was scanning.

The room waited with bated breath, but nothing seemed to happen.

“Beks?” Amita said gently, curiosity full on her face. “Anything?”

“Uh,” Otabek started, lifting his wrist slightly. “No? I don’t think?”

The proctor didn’t seem fazed though, asking, “No tingling sensations? No feeling of being _tugged_ a certain direction?”

“No,” Otabek confirmed. “Nothing.”

“Well, that’s not unusual,” the man said. “It only comes to life if your partner’s bracelet is active. Give it some time and it will start to work, I promise.” He folded his hands into his lap neatly. “Any other questions?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Yuri said from the video call, “ _Who’s placing bets on when that fucking happens?”_

Otabek shot Yuri a glare, but Amita burst into laughter. The proctor smiled, before standing and handing Otabek a flyer. “This should give you more in depth information, but don’t hesitate to call, okay?”

Otabek nodded and thanked him, before standing himself.

“T _hree months till your woman gets hers,”_ Yuri drawled, _“Ten thousand rubles that hers lights up like a damn Christmas Tree in your direction_.”

The thought of Amita’s bracelet reacting to his own was a nice thought, but a one-in-a-million chance. Otabek remained hesitant about it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“We don’t use _rubles_ ,” Amita tittered, her lips pulled into a sarcastic smirk. “What’s that about in _tenge_ , Otabek?”

“About fifty-six thousand,” he deadpanned, and half Yuri’s monthly salary. Amita pressed her finger to her chin in thought.

“I’ll accept the bet and raise it, Yuri,” she finally said, a gleam in her eye. “One hundred thousand tenge that his bracelet doesn’t do jack shit when mine is activated.” Amita came from old money and didn’t bat an eye at the _outrageous_ amount.

Otabek started slightly at that, but Yuri was already accepting the challenge before he could process that she had bet _against_ them.

“ _You’re on, you hag,”_ Yuri snapped. _“It’s pretty fucked up to bet against your own romance though_.”

“Plenty of people don’t go searching for their soulmate, Yuri,” she said with a shrug. “Many people already love someone else and stick with them. Otabek and I are no different.”

It wasn’t that he didn’t _believe_ Amita when she said it, but the both of them weren’t the kind to throw around something like _love_ lightheartedly. When they walked out of the building though, Amita’s hand reached out to find his, squeezing gently as they told Yuri goodbye.

It’s enough to believe that this might actually work.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t.

Otabek didn’t know what was wrong with him when he finally came to that conclusion.

The more and more he thought about the silent bracelet on his wrist, the more he realized that he would be okay with it staying that way for the rest of his life. And that he would be a-okay with Amita wandering off and finding her own _destined_ one.

Because honestly, the woman deserved it. She deserved more than a half-hearted romance with a man who _just liked_ her. Like wasn’t the same as love. Otabek understood that now.

“ _Relationships are fucking useless_ ,” Yuri groaned over the video call.

“I take it that the date didn’t go well then,” Otabek mused.

“ _It was great, until he tried to eat my face off like some sort of rabid dog._ ” Yuri paused to make a disgusted sound. _“You know, that was the first time I’ve kissed a dude and honestly I feel sorry for women. Men are disgusting.”_

Otabek wasn’t sure what surprised him more-- that Yuri’s first kiss had apparently been with a woman, or that he had admitted that men were gross. “You told me he was gross _before_ you went on the date,” he pointed out.

“ _Personality wise yes,”_ Yuri replied, _“but Beka, have you seen his fucking calves?”_

“Yes,” Otabek said. Yuri had shown him tons of pictures of the company, all the while complaining about every single member.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “ _You know, ignore that, it’s not like you’d ever fucking agree.”_

It came out harsher than he meant, and Otabek mused at the irony of his statement. Otabek wouldn’t consider himself gay, but Yuri never failed to get under his skin when the time accounted for it. That moment wasn’t an exception, with his low-scooping neckline and hair falling around his face like spun gold.

Otabek promptly reminded himself that what he had with Amita was good enough, and not worth risking the only fucking friendship he had.

“ _So,_ ” Yuri drawled and Otabek’s attention snapped back to him. “ _Less than a week until Amita get’s her little bracelet.”_

Otabek smirked. “Regretting your bet yet?”

 _“Absolutely the fuck not. Everyone knows you two are disgustingly perfect. You’re almost as bad as the Piggy and Old Man_.”

Otabek seriously doubted that, but laughed all the same.

“ _Are you worried_?” Yuri asked.

“Not really,” Otabek said with a shrug.

“ _What if it’s not you_?”

Otabek hesitated, but then said, “Not a problem. Like Amita said, many people stay with those they aren’t meant for. It’s not a _bad_ thing.”

Yuri was quiet for a moment, regarding him carefully through the screen. Finally, he said, “ _You aren’t the type to do things half-way, Beka._ ”

It wasn’t a critique, it was the honest truth, and for once he didn’t know how to reply. But as soon as _introspective Yuri_ had shown his face, he was gone, throwing out a dirty joke that he had heard from one of the pit musicians.  

After a long time of tossing jokes around and swapping stories, their call comes to its end. Yuri was clearly tired, eyelids drooping as he tucked into the hoodie that he stole from Otabek years ago.

Yuri had said his goodnight, about to end the call, when Otabek said something else.

“Would it make me a terrible person if I wanted her bracelet to point to someone else?” It wasn’t a planned question, or something he would have _ever_ asked Yuri. His friend blinked slowly, his hand hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. “I wonder,” Otabek continued, “if I’m a horrible person because I might want to pull away.”

“ _Of course it doesn’t,”_ Yuri finally said. “ _It makes you normal. Everyone questions their relationships. Sometimes people are constantly questioning them._ ” He paused and considered something else. _“You’re lucky though, I think. Amita seems the kind of woman tough enough to handle rejection in the end. She’d slap a smile on her face and thank you.”_

Yuri wasn’t wrong, and despite his heavy-handed worries, Otabek managed another smile before they ended the call for the night.

 

* * *

 

Otabek couldn’t dedicate time to be there, when Amita’s bracelet was activated. She came from old money, and despite working, she worked for her parents. They showered her with all the vacation and time off she could have ever wanted.

It wasn’t like Otabek’s family weren’t well of either-- that’s how they had met-- but he didn’t like to dip his hand into the cookie jar so to speak. He worked hard for his coin, and as a result had less leeway.

So that night, he had been in his garage, fixing up a vintage bike for a collector. It was dirty work, leaving him smeared with grease, but he loved it. The feel of the tools in his hand, the way that the engine whined when finely tuned to perfection.

Really, it was all could have ever asked for.

“I take it that it’s been a good day for you, Beks,” Amita said, stepping into his space quietly.

He swiped at his forehead and turned to smile at her, but she seemed distant and subdued. Slowly he dropped his hand, as he regarded her.

Amita fidgeted, she _never_ fidgeted, and Otabek couldn’t help the crease that stretched across his forehead as he moved to speak. But she held her hand out and paused. And he saw the bracelet there, blinking gently in the dim light.

His didn’t blink at all, because it had no call.

She saw his gaze and moved her hand self-consciously, tucking her hair behind an ear. “It’s not strong,” she said, “the pull. Whoever it is isn’t close by. I’m not surprised though.”

“I-- I’m not either,” Otabek replied, but the words didn’t sound bitter. Nor was there dread in the pit of his stomach. If he had to be honest, he felt _relieved_.

Amita leaned against his workbench. “I know what we told Yuri, but--”

“But it’s not _right_ ,” Otabek finished, knowing that’s where she was going with this. He stood, wiping his dirtied hands on a spare rag in his pocket. He moved to lean next to her and she smiled sadly.

“It’s stupid, right? I mean, I _want_ to marry you.”

“I would like that too,” Otabek said truthfully.

“But it isn’t… it’s not _right_ ,” she repeated. “I can’t really describe it any other way.” She sighed softly. “I couldn’t deny whoever your soulmate is, _you_ , Otabek.”

He snorted at that. “I think it’s safe to say I’m doomed to be alone, Amita,” he replied lightheartedly. And that was probably the truth. Most bracelets activated within several months, and the longer it took, the less likely it ever would. He was past the point of holding his breath.

She turned to look at him, her eyes flashing. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Otabek rubbed at his neck nervously. “I don’t know, I’m just not the kind of person who does _people_ , you know? I’ve been thinking more and more about it lately, and I think that the single lifestyle would suit me.”

Amita regarded him quietly, tapping her finger against her chin like she always did when she thought. “I think the problem Beks,” she finally said, “is that you just haven’t found your person yet. I would love to be them, but… it’s not fair.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair to you--”

“ _To you_ ,” she interrupted. Otabek blinked at her words, her conviction. “You deserve happiness as much as anyone else,” she said firmly.

Otabek breathed an uneasy sigh, rubbing at his neck again. “I’m not holding my breath, you know,” he finally said.

At that, she laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you too. Above all Otabek, you are _practical_.”

He managed a smile at that. “What will you do, then? Go after him?” He took her hand gently, pulling it closer to see the bracelet. All it did was blink, signaling that it was on. 

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure my parents would be happy. They _love_ you.”

“They love you more,” he pointed out.

She hummed at that, before reaching up and cupping his chin in her hand. “I’ll always love you,” she said quietly. “Despite what this bracelet says, or yours, I’ll always love you. I’m just not the one meant for you, I think.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his brow sweetly. “Who knows? Maybe they’re closer than you think?” She smirked widely as she pulled back and let him go.

Otabek could think of one person that he wouldn’t mind, but those odds were heavily stacked against him. And he wasn’t the kind to dream.

Still, when she left him behind in his shop, his heart didn’t feel heavy. He thanked Amita for her unwavering friendship, knowing that he’d have it forever.

 

* * *

 

The first year after the break up had been weird.

Amita had decided to go West in the end, following the tug of her bracelet. Otabek had seen her off personally, hugging her tightly at the airport. They parted well, with light hearts and encouraging words. Otabek knew that they had made the right decision, no matter how disappointed their parents had been.

In turn, being alone had given him time to think.

The single life wasn’t so bad, he thought. Amita’s words about _how he hadn’t found his someone yet_ floated around here and there, but he had chosen to mostly ignore them. It was easier worrying about himself, and devoting the time to come to understanding _who he was_.

Yuri told him that he was stupid, but didn’t press the issue.

The second year was better. The second year, Otabek discovered himself, exploring his freedom. He finally used that vacation time and savings, and hit the open roads on his bike. Not too far though gone, because he never missed his nightly calls with Yuri.

Yuri threw himself into ballet, constantly tired and bruised. And when he wasn’t punishing his body with grueling training regimes, he threw himself into shitty date after shitty date. No one seemed to stick, not that Otabek was surprised. Yuri was as prickly as a summer cactus, and his personality wasn’t much better. Not everyone could handle the abrasive man.

“ _A huge part of me doesn’t want to get the stupid bracelet, Beka_ ,” Yuri complained one night during their call. His twentieth birthday was looming over them and in a few weeks, he’d know.

“You don’t _have_ to get the bracelet, you know,” Otabek said, leaning back against his headboard. It was a late night and both of them were settling for bed.

Yuri sighed, sitting on his tony mattress with crossed legs. That night he wore baggy sweatpants and a wide-necked black shirt that showed off his collarbones--

Otabek distracted himself by taking a sip from the water cup on his side table.

“ _I thought about it, actually_ ,” Yuri said. _“But then you know, I also keep dating assholes, so clearly my method isn’t working out._ ”

Otabek raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t date assholes then,” he chided, smiling.

Yuri rolled his eyes, before falling back against the bed. “ _How do you do it?_ ” he asked. _“How do you just… do your own thing?”_

Otabek thought before he answered. “It’s taken time and a lot of thought,” he finally said. “And of course, Amita pushed me, I guess.”

“ _A cross-country trip to discover yourself doesn’t hurt either,”_ Yuri teased, and when Otabek looked back at him through the screen, he saw the smirk across his lips. Otabek smiled right back.

“I’ve thought about taking it off,” Otabek continued with, flicking at the metal on his wrist. Nearly three years later and it was still dead as a door nail. Frankly, Otabek had lost interest in waiting. “My soulmate doesn’t define me, you know?”

Yuri hummed quietly. “ _Don’t,”_ he finally said. _“I mean, at least wait until it turns on, yeah?”_

 _“_ It probably won’t, Yura,” Otabek sighed. “Studies show that most activate within the first year. I’m probably the rare case of _never activates at all_. And honestly, I’m cool with it.”

“ _Well I’m not,”_ Yuri scoffed. _“You can’t tell me that someone doesn’t get Otabek Altin as a fucking soulmate, I won’t take it. You’re too cool to go it alone._ ”

“You literally said that you _admire_ that about me.”

“ _That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re deserving_.”

Otabek ran a hand through his hair gently. “You aren’t like me, Yura,” he finally said. “Even though you don’t _like_ people, you crave their attention. You’d never be okay on your own.”

“ _I wouldn’t be alone though_ ,” Yuri replied quietly. _“I’ll always have you, you know._ ”

Otabek did know, and he smiled. “It’s taken me a long time to get to where I am, but I’m good now. Give yourself a chance too, okay?”

“ _Yeah, yeah_ ,” he grumbled. There was a short pause, and then, “ _Do yourself a favor Beka. Don’t you take yours off either, okay?_ ”

Otabek’s lips quirked into a smile. “Okay.”

“ _It’s a promise_?”

“Always, Yura.”

 

* * *

 

Despite all of Otabek’s annoyance for his own bracelet, he was excited for Yuri.

He watched through the screen as Yuri sat on the exam table, twitching with apprehension. The phone must have been propped up against something.  “ _It’s stupid,”_ he snapped. “ _I should be at rehearsal, I should be running through forms, hell I’d rather be doing fucking squats.”_

Otabek smiled at that. “It’s not the end of the world, Yura,” he said amused. “A few years ago, you were _excited_.”

“ _Yeah, until I realized what a drag dating is, and how disgusting men are.”_ He paused then, his face twisting into horror. _“Beka, what if my soulmate is a woman? My life would be over!”_

“It could be worse, you know,” he joked. “It could _not work_ at all.” He raised his own wrist in response.

Yuri scowled at him, about to retort when the proctor came in. When requested to, Yuri stuck his arm out, the smooth skin pale against his dark shirt. Otabek watched as the man slipped the chain around his wrist, snapping it closed. And then the tool came out.

Yuri looked hesitant, but his eyes were bright as the man activated the bracelet.

But then they both fell quiet, watching. And then there was a little beep and Yuri’s bracelet blinked. He regarded it with an odd look.

“Y _ou know, I wish Amita were watching. I bet her smug ass would have enjoyed this_.”

Before Otabek could retort though, there was another beep, this time not through the phone call. He froze and looked down, right as his bracelet flared to life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like y'all didn't see that fucking coming.


	2. Flux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter, but it's been a trying several months for me. My grandfather was diagnosed with cancer, decided not to treat and then went into hospice. He passed away this last week, and I've been out of town handling things like the funeral and helping my grandmother, and such. 
> 
> This chapter was almost finished, so it's just been kind of sitting around, until I decided to buckle up and end it! It's been a welcome distraction as a whole, and I'm glad to bring it to you. 
> 
> Those who read my co-authored story A Rip In Time, will spot a special character later in this chapter. ;D

 

**_Flux_ **

 

‘ _The magnetic flux of a magnet through a surface, is the surface integral of the magnetic field passing through said surface.’_

 

* * *

 

It had been a week, and Otabek was still freaking out.

He was too aware of the bracelet on his wrist, too focused on the little green light that blinked. And there was the _thing_ , you know, _the tug_. It was like a little tick that pulled at him, nudging him gently towards the northwest.

He didn’t need to pull out a map to know where it led.

Really, that was what fucked him up the most. He had finally come to terms with being single, that it would be _okay_ . He was happy with himself, _proud_ of himself. He didn’t need Amita, or anyone to complete him.

He had finally found that peace, and then Yuri had gone and fucked it up.

Well, it wasn’t really Yuri’s fault, he figured. He’d always had a soft spot for him, he’d always _loved him_ \--

And that’s what fucking complicated things, because he wasn’t sure what to tell Yuri. He wasn’t sure how to _explain_ to his best friend that he had _like_ liked him for as long as he could remember. And he used the term _like_ , because it was easier than the word _love_ , and--

“ _Beka_?” Yuri asked, his tone probing.

Right, the video call. “Mhm?” He shoved his hand into his lap, hoping Yuri hadn’t noticed him playing with it.

Yuri frowned slightly, narrowing his gaze, and Otabek hated it. He hated that Yuri could read him like a damn open book. But he didn’t comment on his odd behavior. “ _Would it be weird, if I were too lazy to find my soulmate?_ ”

Otabek started at that. “Well no, but uh--”

“ _I can feel it,”_ Yuri continued, “ _But it seems like an unwanted weight, you know? I wasn’t expecting someone like me to actually have a match, you know?_ ”

“Yuri, don’t be stupid,” he said immediately. “Of course there’s someone for you.” What a ridiculous thing to say. Of course he would have had a match. Otabek had no doubt that Yuri would have eventually found a guy that _wasn’t gross_ . He tried to ignore that little prickle that told him _he_ was that guy.

Yuri seemed to consider his words. “ _Well, whoever it is, isn’t close. That’s a bit of a relief._ ”

Oh, the dramatic irony of it all wasn’t lost on Otabek, and he nearly burst out laughing. Really, he was about to lose it.

Yuri shifted slightly, stretching his long legs out along his bed, as he leaned back slightly. Otabek looked away from the sliver of skin exposed by his shirt, busying himself by rubbing the skin of his wrist. “ _I have that solo debut I need to prepare for anyway. I have no need for unnecessary distractions.”_

“Right, distractions,” Otabek said. That was something that he understood, that he’d struggled with for literally years, when he really thought about it. He was an expert of distracting himself from--

Yuri offered him a small smile, and Otabek’s heart skipped a beat. Yuri’s smiles were few and far between, so he always treasured them when treated to one. “ _This is boring talk anyhow,”_ he said. _“It must annoy you, since… well, you know_.” He pointed at Otabek, indicating his bracelet.

Otabek kept his hand in his lap, but turned the bracelet around his skin roughly. “Nothing about you annoys me, Yura,” he said. “Of course, you could always annoy Amita instead.”

Yuri groaned at the thought of her. “ _I miss her stupid face, you know. She should come back from America._ ”

“She’s _married_ ,” Otabek reminded him. “Unless Jacob wanted to--”

“ _Screw Jacob_ ,” Yuri sighed. “ _Or not, I know she’s happy and all that_ . _But you know, I’m still pissed that you got to go to the wedding._ ”

“Don’t be such a talented _ballerino_ and maybe you can get time off.” Besides, it wasn’t like he had _wanted_ to be the her man-of honor. It was more like she had demanded it.

Yuri groaned, as he fell back against the mattress. “ _Beka, stop teasing_ ,” he grumbled, but Otabek chuckled.

“Speaking of dancing, you really should get to bed you know.”

 _“Yeah, yeah,_ ” Yuri sighed. _“You know, I’m glad that you don’t mind listening to my complaining, Beka. It sounds stupid, but it means a lot to me._ ”

“Of course, Yura,” Otabek replied easily. As if he wouldn’t.  

And that was that.

 

* * *

 

The tug at his wrist had started gentle, but two weeks later it practically roared in his veins.

Otabek wasn’t sure that was normal, but didn’t think much of it past that. All it did was make things harder, and it was a constant battle of trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Thank God Yuri was busy with his ballet, because he knew that the more he saw him, the weirder it would be, and Otabek didn’t like that, this _weirdness_ that had settled over them--

Well, over him, at least. And if that wasn’t a testament to how he actually felt, then he didn’t know what was.

Which is how he ended up in his current predicament, hearing the phone dial in his ear. It was a nice afternoon and Otabek was holed up in his garage, working on a project. He moved to set the the phone to speaker mode before grabbing hold of his toolbox.

“ _Beks?_ ”

“Amita,” he breathed with a sigh of relief.

“ _You never call me. Is everything okay?”_

“Yes,” he answered immediately, but then he thought about it. “No,” he sighed. Then he amended with, “I don’t know.”

 _“Otabek Altin, a man who doesn’t know? Now that doesn’t sound like you_ ,” she said with humor, and Otabek couldn’t help but crack a smile. “ _Really though, it’s great to hear from you_.”

“How’re the States?” he asked, settling into a spot on the floor next to the bike.

“ _The States,”_ she replied dryly. “ _Hot, shitty and barely worth it. I swear to you, if it weren’t for Jacob, I would have hopped a plane back the moment that I got here.”_

“You complain about the heat, but you chose Arizona.”

“ _You know that I didn’t choose this,”_ she replied coolly, _“I just followed a little tug.”_ She wasn’t angry though, causing Otabek to chuckle lightly. “ _Beks? Really, what is it?”_ she asked after the long moment that stretched between them.

“Yuri got his bracelet,” he finally said.

“ _Of course he did,_ ” she mused. “ _I forgot that his birthday was a few months ago. I never called. Damn, he’s prolly angry that I--”_ Then she fell silent, considering something. “ _His bracelet activated, didn’t it_ ?” s he finally asked with a gentle tone, like a mother trying to calm a child. “ _Oh Beks--”_

He wasn’t surprised that she had caught on, really. If anyone knew him as well as Yuri did, it was Amita, and he felt like if he owed _anyone_ an explanation, it’d be her. “Mine did too,” he finally said. “The moment that his--”

Amita burst out laughing over the line, surprising Otabek. He blinked, looking to the phone in confusion. “ _Amita_ ,” he hissed. “It’s not funny.”

“ _Beks, what’s funny is that you sound surprised.”_

“Of course I’m fucking surprised,” he groaned.

There was a pause on her end, and then, _“Wait, are you serious?”_

“When am I never _not_ serious?”

Otabek was considerably annoyed when Amita burst out laughing again. “ _I’m sorry Beks,”_ she finally said, once she had recovered. “ _I just-- it’s just--”_ She paused to take a deep breath. _“So Yuri’s bracelet activated.”_

“Obviously.”

“ _And then yours turned on at that moment?”_

“Hence my mental _meltdown_.”

“ _You know, I’m going to tell you something and I want you to sit and listen--”_

“Amita--”

 _“No interrupting!”_ Otabek sighed, but said nothing more. “ _Maybe this is an early mid-life crisis or something--”_

 _“_ I’m twenty-three!”

“ _Beks.”_

Otabek sighed. “Continue,” he grumbled.

“ _It’s not a bad thing,”_ she finally said. “ _Nor am I surprised.”_

“Why are you so fucking calm about this?” Otabek finally asked. “You’re too calm about this. And what do you mean _not surprised_? Amita, you and I were going to get married.”

“ _And I broke it off for a reason, Beks.”_

He rubbed a hand down his face, already tired of this conversation. He’d called Amita for advice, not for her to rub it in his face and tell him that his crisis wasn’t a fucking crisis.

Even if it really wasn’t.

“Your bracelet wasn’t tuned to me,” he finally said, “That’s why you broke it off.”

He heard Amita take a deep breath. “ _Beks_ ,” she finally sighed, “ _That’s not why. I told you that it wasn’t fair to you--”_

 _“_ Right, because I wasn’t the one--”

“ _No, because you love Yuri,”_ she snapped. Not in anger, though he could tell that she was annoyed that he kept trying to speak over her. She was trying to get him to listen to her. “ _Beks, you always have. I’ve always known._ ”

Otabek swallowed thickly. The conversation had taken a strange turn and suddenly his mouth was very dry. “Amita,” he started, “I…”

“ _I’m not angry, and I never was,”_ she said quietly, trying to soothe him.   _"I know the pressure of trying to please your traditional family, trust me."_ She chuckled lightly. “And _I mean, the irony isn’t lost on me. It’s hilarious to see you so flustered.”_

“How did you know?” he asked her.

“ _It’s the little things you used to do them for him, but not for me. And really I mean it when I say it’s okay_.”

Otabek grabbed at the bracelet again, twisting it nervously. “It’s not just some tiny little pull, Amita,” he confessed. “It’s like my veins are on fire.”

Amita hummed lightly. “ _Isn’t that a good thing?”_

Otabek hated when Amita made sense.

 

* * *

 

“ _It won’t go away_ ,” Yuri said to him one night.

Otabek hadn’t really been listening, a book resting against his knee and glasses perched on his nose. That was how their calls _usually_ went. Often they swapped stories and shared their life, but most of the time it was them just hanging out on camera, going about their mindless activities.

That night wasn’t any different. Otabek had read _Dune_ more times than he could count, so it made the perfect companion on their nightly calls, because he could get by only half-reading it. Combined with the ache in his eyes from his contacts and how tired he was in general, Yuri’s question had caught him off guard.

“Hmm?”

Yuri looked tired, dark circles heavy under her eyes. He was sprawled across his bed, his long legs unfolded as his hands carefully massaged his feet. _"It's just--"_ He paused, sighing in frustration.

 His tone made Otabek dog-ear his page, setting the book down on his knee. "Yuri, what's wrong?" He watched the other man work the soles of his feet, long fingers wrapping around the fine bones, squeezing. The feet of a ballet dancer were ugly things, but Otabek saw beauty in Yuri's crooked and abused toes. All the hard work and dedication wasn’t lost on him.

 " _It's such a distraction_ ," he finally said. _"I literally can't think of anything else. As soon as I get it out of mind, as soon as focus on something else, it just comes right--"_ Otabek could see the flaring of his nostrils, as Yuri tried to get a grip on himself. _"So fucking stupid. I have fucking priorities_."

 Right, priorities. Like being the best fucking male dancer in the entirety of the Bolshoi Ballet. This was why Otabek didn't want to say anything, _this_ was why he'd kept fucking quiet. The moment that Yuri focuses on _him_ , is the moment that he loses everything he's ever worked for.

"I wish..." Otabek started, his finger nervously worrying the edge of his book. It was an ancient copy, practically falling apart at the binding. But Yuri had given it to him years ago, and he just _refused_ to let go of it. "I mean, I can't give you much advice," he finished with, hoping that his words didn't sound as stupid as they felt.

 Because he was a fucking hypocrite, coming closer and closer to fucking _ruining_ their friendship.

 Yuri sighed at that. _"Yeah, I know. I kind of envy that, you know. Not having to deal with it_."

 Otabek swallowed at that. "Still, bounce your complaints off of me. I'm always good for that."

  _"Don't I fucking know it_ ," Yuri said, the barest of smiles crossing over his features. _"Of course, you're good for other shit too."_

 Otabek barely managed a smile back, his heart was beating so wildly.

 Not for the first time, he wondered if he was making a mistake.

 

* * *

 

 "Well I gotta say, this is a surprise."

 He winced at Maya's dry tone. Otabek had _just barely_ started talking to his sister, and he was already regretting it. "Can you just-- can you just let me in?"

 "And what-- ignore the fact that you've come for my help? You _never_ ask me for anything, I want to relish this moment for as long as I can."

 "Then can you do it _inside_? It's fucking freezing out here." He could see his breathe puffing up between them in the cold winter air, as he shuffled around slightly on her porch step. She gave him one last appraising look, before stepping sideways and motioning inwards.

 "Okay, okay," she said, teasing lilt still evident in her voice.

 Otabek loved his sister, really he did. Most people had siblings, but he had a _twin_ and that was a bond quite unlike any other. Which was why if he was going to bemoan his entire life at the moment, she'd be the one that he'd complain to. Because, clearly Amita hadn't helped and Yuri was abso-fucking-lutely out of the question.

 It was November now, and he'd felt helpless for nearly three-quarters of a year, and there was only _so much that he could handle before he fucking lost it._

He threw himself into a chair at the kitchen table, Maya opposite him. "So baby brother, what's on your mind?" He resisted the urge to tell her that being born only _three minutes earlier_ , didn't make him a baby. Instead, Otabek sucked him a deep breath, trying to center himself.

 What was it that their mother had told them as children? It was easier to rip off a bandage off quickly. And so, the words just tumbled out of his mouth, everything-- about how he's loved Yuri for years, Amita and their relationship and then of course the bracelet, the _fucking bracelet_.

 And Maya listened, without interrupting, just tapping her fingers lightly on the table as he literally vomited up all of his feelings in one go. When he was done, he was breathing heavily, cheeks red and ruddy, eyes shining.

 "Feel better?" she asked. And he did, he really did. It was _nice_ to get it out, to just _let go_. He nodded. "Good, because now I'm going to talk, and you are going to sit there and listen, got it?"

 Maya wasn't like Amita. Amita teased wholeheartedly, but tended to hold punches when it came to advice. She'd give you quiet guidance, with the kind of patience usually seen in a mother. With Maya though, you had to brace yourself. She was brutally honest and could smack your ego around pretty hard. So, Otabek did as she said-- he sat there and just waited.

 "You're a fucking idiot," she began with. "And I fucking _wish_ Seung-Gil was here too--"

 "I swear to god, if you utter a _word_ to your husband, I will--"

 " _If only_ ," she talked right over him, glaring, "to agree with me-- You didn't fool a fucking person. _Everyone_ knows that you love Yuri, you knuckle head. It's not like you ever hid it well." And then she had the gall to roll her eyes. "I mean, come on."

 Otabek moved to retort, but she held up a finger and continued. "But I get it. Traditional Muslim family, traditional Muslim values-- Amita made sense."

 Otabek wasn't devout by any standard, but their parents were. Years ago, all he'd wanted to do was make them happy. Proud. _Something_. "Amita made things easy," Otabek said quietly.

 "I know that you loved her," Maya said with the same tone.

 "Yeah, I did. I still do, I always will."

 "But it wasn't the same," she concluded. "It _isn't_."

 "No." Otabek paused to sigh. "Which is why I was relieved when Amita's bracelet wasn't tuned to me." He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool surface of the kitchen table. It was old and smooth, and offered comfort in its familiarity. "What the fuck do I do, Maya?"

 It was a rhetorical question, but of course she answered. "What do you mean, _'What do I do?'_ Obviously, you go to him. You fly your ass to Moscow and you show him that you're fucking meant for each other. Why is that even a question?"

 Well, when she put it like that, it seemed pretty fucking clever.

 But it was easy to think that things would just _fall_ into place. With Yuri, there was one blaring problem-- and it was one that he had conveniently left out of his lengthy monologue earlier.

 "He doesn't _want_ there to be anyone," he said quietly. A strange look crossed Maya's face, and he wasn't sure exactly what it meant.

 "What the fuck does _that_ mean--"

 "It means that he wants to be alone. He doesn't want any distractions. He wants to focus on his life, and his career and--" He stopped when he saw the frown that crossed her face. "He isn't wrong, you know. He _should_ focus on his career."

 "You know Beks, for once I wish you would be selfish," Maya finally said. "That you would just... do whatever you want, take what you need. Forget about other people-- _fuck other people."_

 "Maya--"

 "Instead you just coast on the easy side of things. You try and _please_ everyone around you, because you have a problem doing things for yourself. Do you know why?"

 Otabek didn't have an answer for her, but he could tell that Maya wasn't surprised. She sighed lightly, pressing her fingers across her brows. "Because you're afraid," she concluded with. "You're afraid of being happy, because if your happy, what else do you have to live for?"

 "Maya--" he tried again, but she stopped by reaching out and grabbing his hand gently. Her fingers were soft, and she slipped them between his. Like they used to do when they were kids. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

 "Go to Moscow," she said. "Go to Moscow, and tell him that you love him."

 "It's not that easy," he said. "It's not that simple."

 "It's the easiest fucking thing in the world, when the other person loves you back."

 Otabek blinked at her words, slowly taking them in. He'd never considered that, he'd _never considered that--_

 Well. Their friendship was a little unconventional, when things were examined closely. What kind of close friends spent hours on skype calls with each other, doing nothing really. Or sleep in the same bed when they visited each other without a thought. They were particularly handsy and--

 He swallowed and Maya smirked, letting go of his hand to flick his forehead. "Yeah, never thought of that, did you?"

 No. No he hadn't.

 Maya stood from her seat, going to her kitchen cabinet. He watched as she pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a small glass-- perks of being married to someone non-Muslim. He said nothing as she poured him a glass, setting it down in front of him.

 "So, what are you gonna do?"

 He had no fucking clue, so he just tipped the glass down his throat. The alcohol burned the entire way down.

 


	3. Interlude: To Charge a Particle (Or Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bonus chapter that wasn't supposed to be here. But now it is. Oops.

**_Interlude_ **

 

**_To Charge a Particle (Or Two)_ **

 

_ ‘A magnetic field is caused by electron-charged particles, constantly moving about.’ _

 

* * *

 

Yuri met Otabek when his parents moved to Moscow for business.

Yuri lived in a shit-hole of an apartment, rented by his grandfather-- because who knew where the fuck his mother was.

The tiny-one room apartment that he shared with his grandfather was as old as the first world war, with walls so thin that you could hear a person cough on the other side. Yuri’s room had been covered in peeling wallpaper and kept cold by a moldy window unit.

The moment that Grandpa had met Otabek, he’d yanked him inside apologizing for the mess. Not that the home was a mess, it just wasn’t put together, like Otabek was. He wore armani jeans and a leather jacket that would have cost more than their month’s rent. Still, Otabek would call the place  _ homey _ . And despite everything, he always preferred to spend time at Yuri’s.

Yuri never knew why.

 

* * *

 

Otabek was different. Otabek’s parents were well off, buying a house on the opposite side of the train tracks, so to speak. The lawn was perfectly manicured by gardeners and the home cleaned to perfection by a maid named Yulia. 

The last thing he’d wanted to do at the age of thirteen, was move to Moscow. The  _ next  _ last thing he wanted to do was hang out with a fucking ten-year-old. Funny how things turn out, sometimes.

School was easy enough, since he spoke Russian. But people fled from him, like he was diseased. And he knew why, he  _ knew _ that he didn’t fit in. He was too well-worded, too well dressed, too  _ high society _ , for the shit-hole of a corner in Moscow, that he lived.

Yuri was treated the same way, but not for the same reason. People were threatened by his ferocity, by his well-clipped claws and carefully placed fangs. The moment they’d bite into him, he’d bite right back, his green eyes searing,  _ daring _ them to say something.

_ The eyes of a soldier _ , Otabek had thought. A scrawny slip of a blonde kid, three grades lower, and had  _ no need _ to look like that.  _ No fucking need _ .

So when he went to him, Yuri expected to have to fight back. Otabek only extended friendship. “Why fight each other,” he’d asked, “when people can just hate us together?”

Yuri had regarded him warily, like it might have been a trick, but he took his words at face value.

And then one day, Yuri had followed him home, to the sprawling yard full of unnecessary trees and flowers. The front hall full of tapestries and rugs that only made the place look more lonely. Yuri had shifted uncomfortably, feeling dirty while surrounded by such wealth.

The moment that Mrs. Altin had laid eyes upon Yuri though, she’d basically adopted him as her own, demanding that he sit and eat.

Yuri always did.

 

* * *

 

They were entire opposites, it shouldn’t have worked, but it did. Life just threw them together, it seemed, and the friendship that ensued was effortless.

Yuri liked Otabek’s home, because he had the things that he never would.

Otabek liked Yuri’s home for the same reason.

Whereas Yuri wanted material things, Otabek wanted homey comfort.

And therefore, they always ate dinner at that shit-hole of an apartment. Cramped on his bed, no room to stretch their legs, shoulders bumping into each other. Grandpa sleeping in his armchair out in the living room, his snoring loud enough to disrupt whatever it was they watched on the laptop that Otabek had sitting on his lap.

Their friendship required no work, it just came  _ naturally _ .

The best things always did, it seemed. Maybe it was  _ fate _ .

 

* * *

 

Yuri first realized that he loved Otabek when he was fourteen. Maybe that was too young, or whatever, but all he could remember was Otabek’s tight face as he explained  _ why _ he had to move back to Kazakhstan.

Otabek was seventeen and freshly graduated, because  _ of course he did so a year early _ . Only the best, for the oldest son of the Altin family, unable to ignore the wit that was as sharp as a tack. Otabek had responsibilities and such, apparently. Things that he had to  _ do _ .

Things that couldn’t be done in Moscow, for whatever reason.

It was fucking hilarious that Otabek would eventually ignore his calling (as so called by his high-class parents that expected things), to work in a greased up garage instead.

But back to their youth and the first time in his life, where Yuri was face-to-face with the idea of losing Otabek. The idea of not having him there to be around, to do everything with, was unbearable.

They laid on his tiny bed, barely able to fit on the twin mattress. Yuri was an awkward mess of gangly limbs affected by puberty. Otabek droned on about his future, his parent’s expectations, and how this didn’t mean they  _ couldn’t be friends _ \--

But it wasn’t the same, Yuri had thought. Being friends from afar wasn’t the same as being friends up close. And his heart burned, and it ached, and the idea of losing him was an all consuming dark spot that--

And then Yuri had swallowed.

And then Yuri had contemplated telling him.

_ No Beka, you can’t leave, I fucking love you _ .

But he didn’t say anything, he just listened to Otabek ramble on and on, staring at the ceiling like it  _ meant _ something. The only thing it was good for, was keeping his wandering gaze away from the tanned skin next to him, and the sharp jawline of Otabek’s face.

He still didn’t say it weeks later, even when he hugged Otabek tight in the airport, his fingers digging into his leather jacket, like he might disappear forever the moment he stepped onto that plane. And Otabek hugged him back. Not some little tug to the side, but a full wrap around of his arms, pulling Yuri tightly to his chest. One hand around his waist, the other resting against his golden hair.

Yuri cried. He hated it, but he did.

Otabek didn’t, but Yuri could feel the slight hiccup in his breath, the hesitation to pull away.

But then he did.

And then he was twenty yards away, at the gate. He turned and waved, just a little twitch of his hand. Yuri didn’t wave back, he shot him the finger instead.

And Otabek laughed, before turning away to board.

Yuri filed it away so he could remember it forever.

 

* * *

 

This was the one moment, he’d allow himself, Otabek decided.

It wasn’t the  _ best _ one perhaps, standing in the middle of a busy airport, but he’d fucking take it. Because the moment that he boarded that plane, his life would be set on a different path. And that path fucking sucked.

So, he held Yuri to him, his palm flat against his skull, fingers carded through the feather-like strands of blonde hair. He could feel his shirt wet with Yuri’s tears, and he paused,  _ he nearly jumped ship _ .

What the fuck would Yuri do without him?

What the fuck would Otabek do without Yuri?

This wasn’t friendship anymore, this was something else entirely, even if Otabek wasn’t exactly sure  _ what _ . All he knew was that he didn’t want it to go away, he didn’t want to give up those days spent in Yuri’s shoe box of a room, too hot because the AC didn’t work.

But he’d have to.

Because the world wasn’t fair, and you had to work with what you were given.

 

* * *

 

And then there was Amita.

Despite promises of visits, it took just over a year for Otabek to finally come back to Moscow, and when he did, came Amita. A cunning woman, with a sly smile and knowing eyes. Long black hair, carefully piled into a braid on her head. A blouse and skirt combo that would have cost Yuri  _ three months _ worth of pay to buy, even if he was only a waiter at a shitty diner, part-time.

_ Old Money _ , Otabek had told him, waving it off.

It’d been a long time since Yuri had felt so poor, but Amita made him feel like gutter filth.

And then he heard the dreaded word  _ fiancee _ slip from Otabek’s lips, and it was like his whole world had cracked. There would be no happy ending for him, because  _ even if Beka got his fucking bracelet _ , he’d do the right thing--

And that was marry Amita.

 

* * *

 

The moment Otabek was introduced to Amita, he knew that he’d made a mistake. 

He should have never listened to his family, he should have never left Moscow, he should have never left Yuri. Because if he had just fucking ignored them, he wouldn’t be in this situation. 

Amita was a fantastic woman. Kind, cunning and incredibly smart, she was a  _ good _ choice for him. At least, that’s what his parents had said. And as they were a lot, they were correct. He and Amita mixed well, they got along together.

Except for the fact that you know,  _ he didn’t love her _ .

Well, he  _ did _ , but not the way that he was supposed too. He loved Amita, like he loved Maya. But he wasn’t  _ in _ love with her, because he was  _ in _ love with--

_ Yuri _ .

Yeah, that was a weird thought, and something he hadn’t realized until his mother had made it very apparent that this girl was to be his future. He didn’t want her to be. He wanted his future to be full of long legs and glimmering golden hair and--  _ holy fuck he can never, ever let anyone know that _ .

Which is why it nearly broke his heart, to introduce Amita to Yuri.

“This is Amita, my fiancee,” he’d said quietly.

He’d expected Yuri to get angry, but he didn’t. Instead he had looked sad, like Otabek had just kicked Potya across the stomach, and in a lot of ways--

In a lot of ways, that was the worst fucking thing Otabek could have ever imagined seeing.

Because Yuri looked like he had  _ lost _ , and it fucking broke his heart.

It was a wound that never quite healed. Instead, Otabek just locked that feeling away, intent on being as happy as he could be, with what was expected of him.

 

* * *

 

Yuri got over it by the time that he was seventeen. 

It was impossible to hate Amita, because she was just so… Well, she was  _ herself _ . So he allowed himself to become friends with her. They swapped stories of Beka, Yuri delighting in ones that were particularly embarrassing for good measure. He’d share his own, causing Otabek to call out in alarm, batting away at him, while Yuri laughed.

The ache in Yuri’s heart was still there, but it was okay, it was  _ fine _ .

Because Otabek was happy, he seemed to be in a good place. And Amita was  _ good _ for him, really she was.

Then Otabek was scheduled to receive his bracelet.

“Why?” Yuri had asked him, “You have Amita.”

“Well, why not? Wouldn’t you want to know?”

Yuri scoffed at that. If things were all good, why worry about it at all? Otabek and Amita had been together for nearly two years, they were  _ getting married _ \-- what was the point? Even  _ if _ Otabek’s bracelet pointed elsewhere, it’s not like he’d go after it.

But it wouldn’t. Yuri knew it, Otabek knew, everyone knew it. The two were perfect for each other, and so, their bracelets would be too. Which is why he bet against Amita (and really, who bets against their fiance? How stupid was that?).

It was a relief when Otabek’s bracelet didn’t activate.

But a worry when Amita’s did, and Otabek’s remained quiet.

And then Amita left him, to find her own  _ perfect someone _ , leaving Otabek behind. Who fucking did that? Who left behind the most perfect person in the entire world? Just how stupid was Amita?

 

* * *

 

The moment Amita revealed that her bracelet had activated and his hadn’t, there was a moment of hesitation, despite their promise to still stay with each other.

Amita wasn’t his person, and while he was okay with that, he didn’t want her to be tied down to him. Sure, he loved her, but that wasn’t  _ enough _ , not when there was proof of someone who could love her  _ more _ . And that proof was wrapped around her wrist, blinking quietly with a gentle green light.

When  _ she _ made the choice to leave, he wished it had been a relief.

Instead, that careful wall that he had built came tumbling down, and he just  _ remembered _ all those feelings that had been so carefully bottled up.

It had taken a cross-country motorcycle ride to sort out his feelings.

Did he still love Yuri? Of course he still loved him, he could never  _ stop _ loving him, that would just be  _ stupid _ . But what should he do about it? And so, he’d packed a bag, kicked up the stand and just  _ rode. _

And he rode and rode and rode.

At the end, his choice was pretty fucking obvious, because he’d wound up right where everything had started-- On the front step of that shitty rat-hole of an apartment, Yuri leaning against the support column, with his arms crossed his chest.

Otabek had felt like he was coming home.

_ Because he had _ .

 

* * *

 

Until Yuri kicked him right back out, telling him that he was stupid to come for a visit without warning. That he didn’t have room for him, that he had practice, that he just didn’t  _ have time _ .

And so, Otabek rode back home, no hard feelings. He’d just been happy to  _ see _ Yuri, to hug him again. Because that was enough. Now he could just  _ live _ . He could be himself, by himself, and it was a good place to be.

The wonders that something like  _ closure _ could do.

Until Yuri turned twenty and fucked everything up again.

 

* * *

 

_ ‘The moment that the current is interrupted, the magnetic field will fail-- that is, until the current is started once more.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made a Discord for Yuri On Ice Fanfiction writers and readers! If you would like to join, here's an invite link:
> 
>  
> 
> :D
> 
>  
> 
> [Click here!](https://discord.gg/EReFcK8)


	4. Armature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well aren't I on a roll? What can I say, sometimes inspiration hits, and you're just in a groove, you know?
> 
> Even if I should be working on other things, whoops. This isn't beta'd, so sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> As stated last chapter, I've made a Yuri On Ice Fanfiction discord with theangryuniverse! Please stop by and considering joining! 
> 
> [Click here!](https://discord.gg/EReFcK8)

**_Armature_ **

 

_ ‘In a DC machine, the armature reaction changes the distribution of the magnetic field, which affects the operation of the machine as a whole.’ _

 

* * *

 

“I’m so fucking exhausted,” Yuri groused, leaning against the headboard of Mila’s bed. He didn’t have many friends this side of Moscow, but he was lucky to know her. For the times that he and Otabek weren’t glued at the hip, she filled in quite nicely. He moved to pull off his shoes, intent on massaging away the day’s practice and--

“Ew, get your nasty feet off of my comforter--”

“ _ Your _ feet are just as nasty,” Yuri snapped, ignoring her plea. The moment his boots were off, he shook out his foot, trying to stretch the soreness away.

Mila stuck her tongue out at him, plopping down next to him. She removed her shoes as well, pulling a roll of bandages out from her bedside table. “I swear, Madame is  _ cruel _ to us.”

“I’m pretty sure that she delights in seeing our feet bleed.”

“No pain, no gain,” Mila hummed, rubbing her fingers along the fine bones of her foot.

“I’ll take the fucking pain,” Yuri groused, following suit. His feet were worse than hers, all bunions and crooked toes and purple nails. The look that Mila shot him was laughable, like she couldn’t  _ comprehend _ such a ridiculous thing.

“Yuri, you  _ hate _ pain,” she deadpanned.

“Yeah, but it’s a welcome distraction,” he replied, and then he hissed slightly as his fingers ran over a tender area of skin. He opened up a tub of some numbing pain cream, slathering it over the area.

Mila watched for a moment, but when it became clear that he wasn’t going to continue, she said, “Explain.”

Yuri looked up at her, ready to dodge the question, but the moment that he saw her determined expression, he knew that it would be a futile effort. So instead, he sighed heavily, and replied with, “It’s the fucking bracelet.” He shook his wrist for dramatic effect. “It won’t shut the fuck up.”

“What do you mean  _ shut up _ ?”

“The stupid tug. Or whatever it is. You know, the  _ feeling _ .”

Mila was older, and had her own bracelet. Yuri knew that it was active too, he’d seen the gentle green light as it blipped quietly. Mila had never really seemed to pay attention though; she’d never seemed  _ bothered _ by it. She lifted her wrist slightly, looking at it.

“I mean… it’s not like I feel nothing,” she finally said, regarding the thin metal links wrapped around her skin. “But it’s not like…”

“Not like  _ what _ ?”

“It’s just there,” she finishes. “It’s a gentle tug, but it’s not  _ going _ anywhere, you know?”

Yuri just blinked at her, uncomprehending. “ _ Gentle _ ,” he repeated. “What the fuck are you on about? Mine’s practically  _ roaring _ in my veins.”

It was Mila’s turn to blink, her lips tugging into a slight frown. “Yuri, I don’t think that’s normal--”

“It’s constantly distracting me,” he cut in. He wasn’t looking at her, aggressively wrapping sports tape around his toes, fingers curled tightly around the sticky cotton. “It’s like this searing itch, a burning underneath my skin. My blood is practically on fire, and I’m  _ trying _ to ignore it, but I just--” He paused, sighing, dragging a hand down his face. “My body wants to go. Wants to  _ follow _ it, and I just can’t--”

Yuri tied off the tape, flopping onto his stomach, laying there pathetically on the covers. “I have things that I need to focus on,” he finished with. “Primo Ballerino is  _ right fucking there _ for me, and I can’t be dealing with this shit.”

Mila was quiet a long moment. In fact, the moment was so long, that Yuri was concerned that he  _ broke _ her, but then-- “Are you sure that this isn’t about Otabek?”

Yuri froze.

Yuri felt the little tendrils of anger flood him slowly. How  _ dare _ she bring that up,  _ how fucking dare _ \--

Yuri regretted telling Mila about that. It been years ago, but it had been a mistake. Mila rarely mentioned it, knowing how testy it made him, but it was the wrong fucking thing to say at that moment, that was for sure.

She couldn’t hide the sly little smile that tugged at her lips though, like she just  _ knew _ she’d hit the bull’s eye on the target.

Yuri refused to answer, so she spoke again. “His bracelet never turned on,” she said quietly. “And now yours has, and the pull is so strong that your body just  _ wants _ . But your head doesn’t, Yuri, because--”

“Don’t,” he snapped.

“ _ Because _ \--”

“I fucking swear to God Mila, if you finish that sentence--”

“You’ll what, kick me out? This is my room.” Yuri practically hissed at her in response, which only caused her to sigh. “You know, tons of people ignore their bracelet,” she continued. “If it bothers you so much, then just take it off.”

It was such a simple solution, really. And Yuri had considered it. But then there was just the question, that entire  _ what if _ of the entire thing and--

And then there was Beka. His nearest, dearest friend Beka, who he cared more about in the entire world. Who, once upon a time he hoped to have something with. But then there was Amita.

And then there wasn’t Amita.

And then there was nothing,  _ nothing _ for Otabek. Which was ridiculous because as far as Yuri was concerned, Otabek was fucking  _ perfect _ .

“It’s not fair,” Yuri finally said.

It was Mila’s turn to sigh, leaning over, moving to run a gentle hand along his back. “It’s alright,” she tried to soothe, moving her hand in comforting circles along the curve of his spine.

But it wasn’t okay.

Otabek didn’t have a bracelet that worked.

Yuri’s tugged him somewhere  _ else _ , and he just  _ couldn’t _ follow it because--

It wasn’t okay, because Yuri loved  _ Otabek _ , and he had for as long as he could remember.

How was  _ that _ for fucking fair?

 

* * *

 

Yuri never asked the Piggy for advice. 

Usually Yuuri just gave it to him, free of charge. Or you know, forced it upon him. Yuri wasn’t the kind to ask for help, so when he  _ did _ , Yuuri knew that something was  _ very wrong _ . He immediately met him for coffee, a little bit too eager to lend a hand.

Maybe that was why Yuri fidgeted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the ceramic mug set between them. It was hot to the touch, and he knew that the liquid would burn, but--

“Yurio,” Yuuri started with, causing him immediately sneer.

“Don’t fucking call me that--”

And then Yuuri smiled gently, his eyes practically shining behind his stupid glasses, and Yuri realized that he’d been duped. He’d fallen right into the Pig’s trap, his attempt to gain some  _ normalcy _ between then.

Yuri was pissed, because it had fucking worked.

Yuuri watched him worry the handle of his mug for a minute, before asking, “Yuri, what is it? Is something the matter?”

“Why did you follow the tug of your bracelet?”

Yuuri blinked at that, and then looked at his wrist. He didn’t wear the gadget anymore, he didn’t need to. Instead there was a gold wedding band on his ring finger, because he’d found his one, and while Yuri would never fucking admit it, he was a  _ smidgeon  _ jealous that he could accept it so carefree and--

“Oh I didn’t,” was Yuuri’s reply.

It wasn’t an answer that Yuri expected, but far more in line with the man’s personality. Yuuri was a nervous ball of anxiety, and  _ somehow _ , he’d managed to snag fucking  _ Victor Nikiforov _ , the world’s most eligible ballerino-turned-bachelor.

“Explain,” Yuri demanded.

“I ignored it,” Yuuri said quietly, before sipping at his tea. He would always complain about the quality of the green tea in Russia, but drank it anyway. “I was too busy with school you know,” he continued, swirling his finger along the rim of his mug. “Med school isn’t easy and my eyes were set on becoming a doctor. Besides, the idea that there was someone out there for me-- well, it didn’t sit easily.”

Yuri cocked his head to the side at that. “Why?”

“Yuri,  _ look _ at me. I’m an anxious, nervous mess. Do you really think that I wanted to introduce someone to that? That they’d  _ like _ it?”

“But I mean,” Yuri started, but then struggled to find the right words. “ _ Soul mate _ ,” he finally blabbered. Not his most articulate moment.

“What if you crossed the world to find that special someone, only to have him turn out to be like me?” The face of disgust that Yuri pulled was almost immediately, but Yuuri laughed. “Exactly.”

“But Victor--”

“Is an absolute idiot,” Yuuri cut in, but he said it with affection. “And a brilliant example of how you can’t always escape your fate.”

“Explain,” Yuri said for the second time.

Yuuri sighed, warming his fingers on his mug. “I spent so much time ignoring my own bracelet, that I didn’t think of the alternative.”

“ _ Alternative--” _

“That the person on the other end might come looking for me instead.”

That effectively shut Yuri up. He worried his lip between his teeth, worried his mug between his hands, worried just about  _ everything _ on his body, because that was something that he had never even considered.

He might be adamant about forgetting it, but that didn’t mean that the person on the other end wouldn’t. And even if he took off, even if he never wore it again, it didn't matter-- the damned thing was a fucking beacon, and it would remain that way until they met.

Yuuri must have seen the panicked look on Yuri’s face, because he spoke again. “I thought it was the end of the world, at first. Victor is a gorgeous man, and I mean, how the  _ hell _ could he be  _ my _ soulmate?”

“Yeah, what the fuck is with that?” Yuri’s ill attempt at humor made the other man crack a smile, at least.

“I know you’re scared,” Yuuri said. “And I know it probably has to do with Ot--”

“Nope, stop right there!” Yuri snapped, his chest suddenly tight. Jesus fucking Christ, was there anyone that apparently  _ didn’t know _ ?

But unlike Mila, Yuuri did as he asked, dropping that particular topic. “It worked out for me,” he said quietly. “I never would have thought it would, but it did. And now I’m happy.”

“But was it  _ worth _ it?” Yuri asked, a rare moment where the question was genuine, and he wanted the answer to be as well.

“It was worth every fucking moment,” Yuuri said with an uncharacteristic swear, a wide smile crossing his features.

And that’s when Yuri might have thought he saw it-- whatever it was that Victor saw in this man.

The difference was that they were apparently made for each other.

Yuri left the coffee shop with things to think about, but his heart wasn’t quite as heavy as it had been. Maybe there was something to what Yuuri had said-- maybe things would just work out.

And then Yuri laughed bitterly.  _ What a joke _ .

Things didn’t work out for him, they  _ never _ did.

They never would.

 

* * *

 

Skype calls were hard. 

They were the highlight of Yuri’s day, sure, but they were  _ hard _ . When Otabek had first moved away all those years ago, they were like a lifeline to him; the only way to see his most precious friend. But as the years wore on, the harder and harder it got because there was just no---

Well, he couldn’t  _ ignore _ Otabek so easily anymore. 

When Amita was still in the picture, it was easier. Otabek was getting married, Otabek  _ loved her _ . Yuri could look and never touch, and Otabek would be none-the-wiser, because he had this amazing woman by his side. But then Amita left, and things got awkward, they got  _ really awkward _ .

Otabek would sit there in his sleeping clothes-- loose shirts and soft pants hanging low on his hips-- and suddenly, Yuri didn’t have to keep it so clean anymore. And who was he to blame? He was a young adult, with raging hormones. And those hormones all pointed to dark, brooding and handsome that graced the screen in front of him.

Otabek made it effortless, which pissed part of Yuri off. He went  _ out _ of his way to seem inviting. Low-necked shirts, sitting across his bed certain ways, laying across his stomach to show off his perfect calves-- but Otabek seemed immune. Yuri wished that were the case for him. It’d save him the headache at least. All it took was one stupid smirk from the other man, and Yuri would be melting into the bed, ready to turn off the camera as soon as possible, so he could rut into his hand until he couldn’t think anymore.

File  _ that _ under things he’d never fucking tell anyone, ever. Was there anything more embarrassing than furiously masturbating to the thoughts of your best friend? Probably not.

So like always, he distracted himself with something,  _ anything _ really. Something Mila said earlier had stuck with him, and so Yuri turned to the vast world of the internet to figure it out. Too much information, perhaps, but he prepared to sift through it all. 

And then an article stood out to him, as he skimmed it.

“Huh,” he breathed. “Beka, did you know that the bracelet tugs harder, if the two people already love each other?”

He looked to the computer screen. Otabek was laying against his headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. He had his old and dingy, dog-eared copy of Dune in his hands, flipping through it slowly. Glasses perched across his nose, his hair unstyled, curling around his forehead as he looked up. His lips parted just slightly and--

Yuri forced himself to turn away and take a deep breath. “At least, that’s the theory. No one really knows and there’s not a lot of evidence because… well, you know. They can’t  _ prove _ what the pull feels like for people, I guess.”

He turned back to Otabek, who shook out his wrist slightly, a line furrowed across his brow. The video feed was grainy, but Yuri could tell that he was thinking hard about something.

“Well, in any case, it sounds stupid,” Yuri continued with. “I mean, who believes this shit, right?”

“Hopeless romantics?” Otabek supplied, his tony only a tad bit dry.

“Oh, so people like you,” Yuri joked with good nature. Otabek finally smiled that tiny little smile of his, and it felt genuine, and God above the things it did to Yuri. He shifted slightly on his bed, adjusting his legs.

“Would it be so bad?” Otabek asked him suddenly.

“Eh?”

“Would it be so bad?” Otabek repeated. “For it to be someone that you already know?”

“In a perfect world, maybe,” was Yuri’s reluctant reply. He knew that it was a load of shit though, because there was only  _ one _ person he loved, and it was clearly unrequited. “Really, I can’t think of anyone that I’d want it to be,” he finished with, trying to maintain a cool tone.

No point in scaring off Otabek with maybes and what-nots.

But to his surprise, Otabek looked…  _ deflated _ . Yuri could count on one hand, how many times he’d seen that particular expression across the older man’s face-- when they said goodbye at the airport the time he moved away, and when Otabek introduced Amita to him.  

Yuri didn’t like it, the subtle downturn of his lips, the furrow in Otabek’s brow. He didn’t like it  _ so much _ , that he changed the subject.

“Hey, remember that I’ll be offline for the rest of the week.”

“Ah, yes,” Otabek replied, slipping back into his usual ease. Maybe Yuri had seen something that wasn’t actually there but… well, he  _ knew _ Otabek. “Your big debut solo,” he continued with, a proud smile spreading across his face.

“Ugh, I’m so fucking nervous.”

“Yura, you’re never nervous.”

Well, Otabek was kind of right, he rarely felt the gut-wrenching butterflies that people often complained about. But this was different. “If this goes well, Beka, I have a shot,” he said quietly. “A  _ real _ shot at Primo Ballerino. Could you imagine?”

“Yes,” Otabek replied easily. “Always. In fact, I don’t imagine it, because it will just  _ be _ .”

“God, you’re such a sap,” Yuri groused, smacking a hand across his forehead.

“Yeah, but I’m  _ your _ sap.” Otabek punctuation the sentence with a laugh, but all Yuri heard was the word  _ your _ and he just about died inside. When he finished, Otabek leaned closer to the camera, setting his book aside. “I wish I could be there for it.” He sounded regretful.

“Yeah, same.”

“You’ll do great though, you always do.”

“Hey Beka,” Yuri said, but then hesitated. “Thank you.”

Otabek raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

Yuri sighed. “I don’t know. Or everything? You’re like… you’re like my person and all that. Friends are great, but you’re just something else.”

Otabek smiled,  _ really _ smiled. Wide across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It took Yuri’s breath away.

“I know what you mean, Yura,” he said in reply.

They said their goodbyes and Yuri disconnected the call. His heart felt light, like he had gotten something off of his chest. And you know, Otabek’s smile didn’t hurt.

It was something he could go to bed to every single night.

 

* * *

 

Yuri’s feet were fucking killing him.

He was used to pain. He was used to the pain and the aches of being a ballet dancer. He was used to to stress fractures, the cracks and bruises and even his fucked up feet. Of the pulls in his back muscles, of the strains in his legs, of  _ everything _ .

But the last four days had been, by far, the most  _ brutal _ workout, he’d ever put himself through. But it was necessary. It was  _ worth _ it, to see the look of utter satisfaction on Madame Baranovskaya’s face. She never handed out compliments, but she had sent him home early, with a simple request to  _ rest _ .

That alone was worth a thousand words.

Yuri stumbled into his apartment, broken and weary, but  _ good _ . He had this in the bag, he’d fucking  _ nail _ his solo and then--

Well, and then he’d be the prime pick for principal male of the company. And if he did, it’d be the best achievement of his life. Victor Nikiforov had snagged principal at twenty-one, over a decade prior. It was worth his bleeding toes, to see the smug smirk wiped off the idiot’s face when Yuri did the same at  _ twenty _ .

He dropped his duffel by the kitchen table, collapsing onto the couch. He was too tired, too sore to properly undress at the moment, so he just sat there, sinking into the well worn fabric. He turned on the television, the volume low. He just wanted a quiet distraction, something to play in the background as he closed his eyes and--

There was a knock at the door.

At first, he thought it was part of the television program-- until he heard it again. The second time, the knock was louder, more insistent. Yuri groaned softly, before pulling himself to his feet. The  _ only _ person who could possibly bother him this late at night, was his neighbor Vera. And as much as he’d like to just leave her hanging in the hallway, she was just too much of a sweet old lady to ignore.

She probably needed help turning on her space heater, because her fingers just didn’t work the way that they used to. Her words, not his.

He pulled open the door, a greeting ready on his lips-- only to freeze immediately.

Because it wasn’t Vera on the other side of that door.

“Ah, Yura,” Otabek said, shifting around the duffel thrown across his shoulder. He was wearing his old leather jacket, the one that was Yuri’s favorite. He’d spent  _ days _ wrapped in that jacket when it was cold and Otabek was too kind to let him freeze to death--

“Beka,” he breathed, leaning against the doorframe, trying to make it look casual. Not like he was trying to hide the sudden  _ hammering _ of his heart. “Not that uh, not that I don’t want to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?”

Otabek hesitated, which was something he never fucking did. “I, uh--”  Yuri crossed his arms over his chest as he listened, waiting patiently. And then Otabek raised his hand, shoving his wrist out towards him.

Yuri saw the bracelet.

And the bracelet burned a brilliant green, not like the gentle little blipping he was accustomed to seeing. Not  _ dead _ , like it was  _ supposed _ to be.

Yuri blinked, as he regarded it. And then he left the doorway, leaving Otabek behind, following him in confusion. Yuri ignored him as he dug through his practice bag, looking for--  _ there it was _ . He pulled out the metal circlet, holding it like it might shock him. He had taken it off for practice, and then he’d kept if off at the advice of Mila.

And then Yuuri’s words came back full force.  _ I didn’t think of the alternative. _

Otabek paused in the kitchen and Yuri looked back at him, still holding the bracelet.

_ That the person on the other end might come looking for me instead _ .

There was no way, Yuri concluded. There was absolutely no fucking way. Otabek didn’t  _ love _ him like that, Otabek wasn’t even fucking gay. Otabek was his best friend and the only person that meant something to him, but that didn’t mean he had to _ reciprocate _ .

Otabek was clearly in the wrong place, and Yuri would prove it. He opened the clasp on the bracelet and slapped it around his wrist and--

The tug was so strong, it felt almost like his heart was being tugged right out of his body. It didn’t just burn anymore, it was like an all-consuming fire. It was like electricity, crackling through his veins, surging through his blood. Yuri stared at his wrist for a long moment, before turning back to Otabek, swallowing thickly.

And Otabek just stood there dumbly, scratching at the back of his head like an idiot. Like he didn’t know what to fucking say.

Which is probably why he settled on, “So uh, I guess we should talk, huh?”

 


	5. Polarization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you, how emotional this chapter ended up being for me.
> 
> I super didn't beta read this. Oops.

**_Polarization_ **

 

_‘Polarization density also describes how a material responds to an applied electric field as well as the way the material changes the electric field, and can be used to calculate the forces that result from those interactions.’_

 

* * *

 

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go, Otabek thought.

He’d finally made a choice. He’d finally grown a pair and hopped a plane to Moscow last minute. He’d _finally_ tell Yuri that he loved him, and that he was stupid, and that he’d waited _too fucking long to do this_.

And then you know, he’d sweep him off his feet, finally kiss him and-- Well, Yuri was supposed to respond _positively_ , because that was the dream, right? It wasn’t like you could deny the destiny bracelets, or whatever.

Otabek realized just _how stupid he was_ , the moment that Yuri slapped on his bracelet, feeling the pull that tugged between them. The look of surprise and utter _betrayal_ that flashed across his face.

Currently, Yuri was stomping around the kitchen, muttering angrily under his breath. Setting about a kettle of water for tea. Otabek watched from his seat at the kitchen table, one leg folded across the other, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck nervously.

Yuri bothered, because _Otabek_ was the one that liked tea. Maybe that meant something. That thought wavered the moment Yuri slammed the pot onto the burner, turning to him suddenly.

“You lied,” he hissed. “How could you--” he started, but then paused, closing his eyes and rubbing at them. Then he let out a frustrated grunt.

“Yura--”

“Are you telling me that yours has been active since mine was turned on?”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “I-- uh… _yes_ .” And Yuri just _blinked_ at him, waiting for him to explain further. Otabek sighed. “I wasn’t expecting it,” he said quietly. “So when it did, I just kind of _freaked_ \--”

“Is the idea of being with me _so terrible_ ?” Yuri suddenly asked. His voice was about as small as Otabek suddenly felt. Couldn’t Yuri see-- didn’t Yuri _know_ \--

Well, probably not, Otabek reasoned. Yuri was incredibly bright, but tended to overlook things quite easily. “ _Yura_ ,” Otabek said, standing up from the chair, going to him. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Well I--” Yuri started, the answer clearly rehearsed, but then he paused. “Wait, _what_ \--”

But Otabek was already pressing a hand against his cheek, his fingers tightened and pulling Yuri down to him. Yuri let out a cry of protest, his hands grabbing at Otabek’s arms to try and stop. Yuri might have had him in height, but Otabek was stockier. He pulled Yuri’s face to his, pressing their lips together.

And just as he expected, Yuri pulled away, pushing at him. Otabek refused to let go of his face though, his fingers still cradling his jaw firmly. “ _Yura_ ,” he said, “It’s okay--”

“This has got to be a fucking joke,” Yuri said. Otabek could see the tears welling up in his eyes and _oh no_ , Yuri was the world’s _ugliest_ crier, he didn’t want to see--  “I mean you couldn’t possibly-- you’re _making fun of_ \--”

“It’s okay,” Otabek interjected. Yuri snapped his mouth shut, his fingers still gripping his shirt tightly. Otabek rubbed his thumb along his jawline gently, trying to reassure him. “Yura, it’s okay,” he repeated.

“But… but Amita,” Yuri whispered, like uttering her name would somehow change things between them. Like her name somehow _meant_ something, in that moment.

“I think that we both know she isn’t _you_ ,” Otabek replied.

“What the fuck does that mean? Beka, you were going to _marry_ her.”

“You know better than anyone how my family is,” Otabek said quietly. “You _know_ , Yura, how I didn’t want to leave. And when they _arranged_ our marriage, how I couldn’t say no. And how--”

“Are you implying that you’ve liked me for what-- _years_?” Yuri shook his head, disbelieving.

Otabek only sighed softly, pulling his hands away from his face. “What was I to do? My parents have done _everything_ for me,” he said sadly.

Yuri was about to say something when the kettle went off, the shrill whistle cutting through the air. Yuri wiggled out from Otabek’s grasp to pull it from the stove. Otabek watched as he poured the water into a cup, then as he placed the kettle down and wiggled around the tea bag. And then Yuri just stood there, staring at the counter, _thinking_.

Otabek didn’t like it when Yuri thought. Yuri was _dangerous_ , when he thought. “You know, it’s not fucking fair,” Yuri finally said, letting out a bitter laugh. “I’ve loved you since I was like fourteen, but I’ve always thrown it to the side, because I’ve thought that you would _never_ \--” He stopped abruptly, his hands gripping the countertop so tightly that his fingertips turned white.

“But now you’re telling me that that _wasn’t_ the case,” he finished with.

“For what it’s worth,” Otabek said, “I didn’t know until I left.” At that, Yuri turned around, giving him this _look_ and Otabek couldn’t hide the wince that crossed his face. “You were a _teenager_ , when I left,” he huffed. “ _We_ were teenagers. I was seventeen, and it was weird okay? I didn’t want to put a label on anything, but then I went back home to Almaty and everything just kind of…”

“Kind of what?” Yuri couldn’t hide the snark in his tone.

“It just lost its color. It was like my world was suddenly _gray_ and the only thing that would have fixed it, was if you were there.” Well, that had sounded better in his head, but Otabek was too far into his monologue to stop. “Because I… well, you know. Love you, and all that.” It wasn’t the most _articulate_ love confession, but it was very _Otabek_ at least.

“ _Oh_.” Yuri sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him. That was a good sign. Yuri slipped his fingers into the handle of the mug and brought it to Otabek, before plopping into a chair at the table. Otabek followed suit.

“But Amita…” Yuri started again, before trailing off.

“She knew.” Otabek’s voice was so quiet, that he wasn’t sure that Yuri had even heard him at first. He cleared his throat and then continued with, “I mean, she uh-- I wasn’t able to really hide it from her, I guess. We had an understanding.”

“You faked it pretty fucking well,” Yuri said.

“It wasn’t… fake,” Otabek’s tone was careful. “We loved each other, but we weren’t _in_ love with each other. If that makes sense. I was still trying to sort things out though, so I was just happy that we _worked_.”

“But then…” Yuri motioned to his bracelet. Otabek twisted it nervously. The tug was softened to a dull hum, probably because they had found each other. “And then _hers_ …”

“She was the one that broke it off.” Yuri knew that, but his face was unreadable. “But not because of the reason you would think.”

“She did it because of how you felt, didn’t she?” Yuri asked quietly.

Otabek thumbed at his mug for a long moment, before taking a sip. “It’s pretty pathetic when your fiancee tells you to go after someone else. Especially when it’s a _man_.”

“Otabek, I--” But Yuri paused, biting his lip. He looked so young like that. So young and unsure, and like he was about to burst at the seams. “I’m not actually angry at you.”

“I know you aren't’. If anything, I’m angry at myself.” Otabek sighed as he said it. “I shouldn’t have hid this from you.”

“ _No_ , you shouldn’t have,” Yuri agreed, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“But try to see it from my view.” Yuri looked at him, _listening_ . “I had spent _years_ bottling this shit up, and then yours is activated and-- I mean, suddenly everything I wanted was _right there_ , you know? I had just come to terms with being myself.”

“Yeah, sorry that I _fucked that up_ for you,” Yuri said sarcastically, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“Yeah, yeah, you went and _found_ yourself. And then everything went to hell.”

“Yura, it hasn’t _gone to hell_ \--”

“Why are you even here?” Yuri finally asked, crossing his arms over his chest. It was an honest question, his tone carefully calculated.

And Otabek knew that this one answer would be _it_. His mouth was as dry as the steppes that he’d ridden his motorcycle through. His next words would either make them or break them, and the latter was just not a feasible option.

“Because a life _without_ you, isn’t a life at all,” Otabek said after a long moment of reflection.

Yuri blinked, and then blinked again. And his face turned red, his cheeks splotched and ruddy as his next words sputtered. “Jesus fucking christ Beka, you can’t just _say shit like that_.”

“What is it that you want me to say?” Otabek asked, trying his best to keep a pleading look off of his face.

“Say it again.” Yuri’s voice was quiet, wavering just slightly, like he was afraid that Otabek would somehow change his mind. That he’d realize that this was a mistake or something, like he was _afraid_. “Say it again, and say it properly.”

Otabek suddenly realized what exactly it was the Yuri wanted. He wanted reassurance. He wanted Otabek to show him that this wasn’t some joke, that he wasn’t _playing him_. Otabek  pulled himself from the chair and dropped to his knees before Yuri.

“I love you, Yuri,” he said. His hands found Yuri’s knees, squeezing gently, playing with the fabric of his pants. “I’m pretty late to the game, but I’ve _always_ loved you.”

Yuri regarded him for a long moment, and then he said, “Get off the fucking floor, you fool.” Then he stood, holding his hand out and helped Otabek up. Yuri didn’t let go though, holding his hand tightly, rubbing his thumb across the back of Otabek’s hand.

“You know,” he said, “I’ve imagined this scenario a thousand different ways over the years. I never would have thought it’d end with you on your knees for me.”

Otabek could think of _other_ things that he’d rather do while on his knees in front of Yuri, but he forced a crooked smile across his face. Reaching up, he ran his thumb across his cheek, rubbing away the moisture there. Yuri wasn’t _crying_ , but a few tears had slipped free.

“You’ve always responded positively to worship,” Otabek teased.

“Oh? Is that what you were doing? Worshiping me?”

“There are _far_ better ways, I’d rather worship you with, especially if I’m on my knees.” The words slipped from Otabek’s mouth before he could stop them, and Yuri turned bright red, the intent not lost on him.

“You’re an absolute moron.”

“Yes,” Otabek agreed.

“But you’re my moron.”

“Always,” was Otabek’s reply.

“And you’re _sure_ that Amita is okay with this?”

“Amita lives in the United States, married to another man. She has no standing.” Otabek was teasing, of course, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out and brushing some of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. Anything to offer some modicum of comfort, really.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Yuri finally said, stopping Otabek in his tracks. “I’m tired, you’re tired, it’s been a long day. I’m fucking exhausted and this is a lot to take in.”

Otabek dropped his hand sheepishly. Yeah, rest, that was a good idea. There was _plenty_ of time to talk about this. “I’ll take the couch--”

“Absolutely not,” Yuri said. He’d already pulled away and grabbed the mug. He frowned at Otabek, as he poured the tea down the sink. “Bed’s big enough for both of us.”

Otabek swallowed thickly. “Right,” he managed weakly.

“It’ll be like old times.”

Otabek closed his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. “Yura, it’ll be _nothing_ like old times,” he finally said. And he looked back to Yuri, he found the man smirking back at him with amusement. He’d been _teasing_ him!

“Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be like new times,” Yuri said, walking over to Otabek who hummed lightly in response. Yuri grabbed at his hand, yanking him toward the room. He could practically feel the blood roaring in his veins.

But it was a good roar, and it felt like Yuri was leading them to their future.

 

* * *

 

Yuri couldn’t sleep.

This occurrence wasn’t so uncommon, really. A lot of the time he couldn’t sleep-- be it the sore muscles, his aching back, or late-night thoughts of what his life was and could be. But this time, the source of his insomnia was sleeping next to him, snoring gently.

It shouldn’t be awkward. Yuri and Otabek had shared a bed _tons_ of times before. Of course, it’d been a few years, but shit shouldn’t change, right? Except that it had, and Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, he sat on the edge of the mattress, wringing his fingers slightly.

It was weird, how you could want something and expect to never have it, but the moment that you _could_ , shit get weird. Yuri had waited his entire life, to be able to tell Otabek how he’d felt, and that was _good_ . He was _glad_.

Now came the added complication of Otabek loving him back.

Which, shouldn’t even be a complication, right?

Yuri jumped slightly when he felt a warm hand press against his shoulder. The mattress sunk under Otabek’s weight as he shifted. “Yura?” he murmured sleepily, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. Still half asleep then, Yuri surmised. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just thinking.”

“You never _think_ ,” Otabek said. He shifted again, moving to swing his legs over the side and sit next to Yuri properly. “You always _do_. What’s bothering you?”

“I love you,” Yuri answered, and he saw Otabek’s frown in the moonlight that filtered in through the window.

“Yeah, I know,” Otabek replied. His hand swept down Yuri’s shoulder and then arm in a comforting gesture.

“Do you though? I don’t mean in a ‘yeah I’ve kind of liked you for awhile’ way. I mean in a ‘my heart literally stops at the sight of you’ way.” Yuri couldn’t help the way that his voice cracked slightly. “It’s one thing for you to say that you love me too, but is it on the same level?”

“Are you serious?” Otabek breathed. Yuri frowned; Otabek’s tone was caught between amusement and breathlessness. The older man couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled up from his throat and for a moment, Yuri’s heart clenched that same fear from earlier. The fear that this was some massive and utter joke, that Otabek was just _stringing him along_ until he got tired of it, because there was _no_ way that he’d feel the same about him and--

Otabek’s weight shifted again until he was kneeling in front of Yuri. His hands slid up to gently grab his face and Yuri couldn’t help but lean in. He was taller, this position slightly awkward, but--

“How could you possibly think that, Yura?” Otabek asked, his thumb ghosting across Yuri’s cheek lightly. “How could you even entertain that my feelings aren’t the same? For years, you’re all I’ve ever thought about. Fuck, the woman I was going to marry _left_ me because of my feelings for you.”

Yuri swallowed over the lump in his throat. “Beka, I--”

“I realized it too late,” Otabek said, leaning upwards, pulling at Yuri slightly. “But I’m here now, Yura. I’m here now, and I’m not going away. I love you--”

“Would you just kiss me already?” Yuri snapped in a harsh whisper.

Otabek immediately complied, rising up to press their mouths together. This wasn’t like the soft peck earlier in the kitchen, innocent and chaste, the one that Yuri had pulled away from. This was full of longing, Otabek gripping his jawline firmly as his other hand slid around his waist, pulling Yuri closer to the edge of the bed.

Yuri didn’t pull away from him this time. He pulled him closer, like he was trying to lose himself in Otabek. His lips were soft and chapped, but they felt better than anyone else. And he’d kissed a _lot_ of people in his life. Otabek’s hand moved from his jaw to the back of his head, grasping gently as he changed their angle, running his tongue along the seam of Yuri’s mouth.

Yuri gasped, his lips falling open. Otabek licked into him, and Yuri moaned, and it seemed like all of his blood rushed south. He’d dreamed of this, _imagined_ this in so many different scenarios, but the reality was so much better than he could have ever wished. Yuri responded in kind, his hands reaching up for Otabek’s face, caressing the skin there. Then they flitted over his hair, gripping lightly as he kissed back.

Otabek yanked at his hips, pulling him nearly off the edge of the bed to press they’re hips together and Yuri panicked momentarily because--

Otabek paused, pulling back. “Yura,” he breathed, the moment hanging between them.

Yuri swallowed, wanting to crawl into the bed and die. It was stupid, how hard he was, so quickly. It was hot, too hot, the room was suddenly sweltering and his pants tented and too tight because he didn’t wear proper underwear to bed. Otabek was _still there_ , his eyes dropping to his lap and then back up.

“ _Yura_ ,” he repeated, looking like a starving man in a desert, his eyes half-lidded with lust and--

 _Jesus fucking_ _Christ_. Otabek had palmed him through his pants, the thin material in the way, but no enough to make the touch anything but phenomenal. “Is this okay?” Otabek asked, and Yuri practically whined, moving to grip his hand to keep it there.

“ _Okay_ ,” Yuri snapped. “You’re asking me if this is okay, you’re such a moron.” He canted his hips upward. “ _Obviously_.” He moved to pull Otabek’s face back up to his, but the other man pulled away, leaning back on his heels.

He a hand down Yuri’s side until it paused at the waistband of his pajama pants, thumbing the fabric there. The other was still cupped around his hardness, not squeezing but _there_ just holding him there. And if Otabek didn’t fucking _do something_ , Yuri was going to literally combust.

“Beka,” he started, but almost immediately lost his words when Otabek gave him a rough squeeze and let go.

“Yura, what do you want?” It was a sincere question. Not one uttered in sultry tone, during the heat of the moment. It was an honest question, with Otabek peering back at him like he was afraid that Yuri would say no. _As if_.

“Beka, _please_ ,” he pleaded, lifting his hips slightly. Otabek hesitated before helping him slip the pants off. The cool air was like a balm on his hardened length, but then he saw the look on Otabek’s face. Like he was drowning in the sight of him, his lips parted slightly as his hands gripped Yuri’s thighs tightly.

“I don’t get on my knees for just anyone,” Otabek said quietly, and Yuri felt his voice hitch and his heart skip a beat. “I would never do this for anyone but you, Yura.”

Yuri practically yelped at the feeling of Otabek licking up his length, before wrapping his hand around the base. His grip seemed unsure, hesitant, as he tried several different applications of pressure. And then it clicked, what Otabek had meant.

Of course he’d never do this to anyone else, he never _had_. Yuri would be the first and only, and suddenly his heart swelled slightly at the idea. He reached down, wrapping his hand around Otabek’s, as he said, “Like this, Beka.” Not too tight, but firm, showing him how to pull the foreskin down.

Otabek’s head dipped again, and Yuri felt wet heat engulf the tip of his cock. He hissed at the sensation, his other hand slipping down to sink into the soft curls on Otabek’s head. He usually slicked his hair back, but Yuri liked it like this-- wild and unruly, coiling around his forehead. Otabek’s tongue swirled around the head and Yuri groaned, barely stopping his hips from bucking upwards. The other man hummed, slipping more of his length inside his mouth, sucking gently and--

Fuck, Yuri was already close, he was already _so close_ and it wasn’t fair. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted this to never end. His fingers yanked at Otabek’s hair tightly, as the other man pulled back, only to dip down again, twisting his hand around the base slightly.

Otabek wasn’t even undressed, and Yuri was reduced to a mess next to him. From the heat of his mouth, to the heat of his gaze he just-- And then Otabek looked up at him, his lips stretched around his cock, his eyes half-lidded and pupils blown wide underneath his long eyelashes. Yuri gasped at the sight, at the pull of his hand, at the way his tongue slid along the underside of his length.

Yuri remembered the first blow job he’d ever given, and it wasn’t like this. It had been awkward and terrible, and though he had tried his best, his experienced partner hadn’t been patient with him. Yuri was  _determined_ not not be like that. Otabek didn’t even seem to be _trying_ , running on instinct. Perhaps this is what made the difference, this overwhelming feeling of love. Yuri bucked his hips slightly, unable to stop as Otabek moaned around him, and _it wasn’t fucking fair how good this was_.

“ _Beka_ ,” he hissed. “I’m so close--” he tried to warn, his grip on Otabek’s hair tightening. The other man doubled down on his efforts, sucking harder, pressing faster. Swallowing him as deep as he could without choking before pulling off. He kissed the tip, sliding his hand up and down, before swallowing him again.

Yuri felt the telltale tightening in his gut, and he crashed over the edge almost immediately, his hips jerking slightly towards Otabek. Otabek moaned around him, swallowing without a thought, and Yuri couldn’t think of anything hotter, he decided.

He hissed at the last lick that Otabek gave him, before pulling off, his tongue tracing around his lips as he--

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuri groaned, falling back to the mattress in a melted heap. He could feel it, he was spent all the way down to his _bones._ The bed sagged under Otabek as he limbed back in, leaning against the headboard, pulling Yuri’s head into his lap.

Yuri pulled from his grasp though, sitting up in the bed, straddling his hips with ease. Otabek’s hands found his hips quickly, squeezing, thumbing the soft skin there. His face so full of _love_ , that Yuri wanted to paint a picture of it forever. Otabek only proved that he could still wreck him; that he could wreck him _over and over again_.

Yuri’s hand reached up, slipping just under his shirt, ghosting over the hard muscles he found there. “You’re over dressed,” he said, pulling the fabric up. Otabek helped him ease off the shirt.

“You’re still in your shirt,” he countered, but Yuri hushed him. His hand slipped across his skin, his fingers running along his collarbone and across his chest. Over a nipple, teasing it slightly, and Otabek shifted his hips under him, his hands tightening their hold.

Yuri hummed at that, a small smile crossing his features.  “Did you ever sleep with Amita?” It was a question with an answer that didn’t really _mean_ anything, but curiosity poked at him.

And judging by the look on Otabek’s face, the other man didn’t like the thought of it, or him asking. “Yura, that’s not--”

“I’m only curious,” Yuri interrupted. “I mean, she’d be fucking stupid to ignore _this_ ,” he said, settling his hips closer, slotting them together to where he could _feel_ the hardness underneath him. More impressive than he would have thought, and honestly his mouth watered with want.

“Yes,” Otabek groaned, and Yuri paused. “What I mean-- er-- _Amita_.” Yuri liked the fact that such a simple movement could render him literally speechless. “It wasn’t like this, though,” Otabek continued with. “I couldn’t be--”

“Damn right,” Yuri said, leaning closer to him, his face only a hair's breadth away.  “She wasn’t me, right?”

“ _Yura_ ,” Otabek sighed, and he closed the small gap between them, kissing him again. One of his hands slid down Otabek’s abs, dragging his nails across the spattering of hair underneath his bellybutton. And then southward, hesitating at the edge of his pants.

Otabek let out a frustrated grunt, and Yuri practically swallowed it, his tongue snaking out across his lips. And then he pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. “Are you okay with this?” he breathed, his hand cupping Otabek’s length through the fabric of his pants.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Otabek replied.

“Not yet,” Yuri laughed. But Otabek was already lifting his hips, his hands scrambling to pull down his pants before Yuri could protest. And it wasn’t that Yuri _didn’t_ want to, oh he _so did_. But he wanted to take his time, he wanted to pick Otabek apart and put him back together. And really, they had all the time in the world.

He shifted his hips back slightly, looking down between them, where Otabek stood at attention. Yuri had seen his fair share of dicks, but this one was _perfection_. Thick and cut, dark like his tanned skin and already weeping at the tip. Otabek took Yuri’s staring as hesitation, already ready to put a halt to this and--

Yuri wrapped his hand around him tightly, using his thumb to spread the slickness that had already gathered there. Otabek threw his head back so fast that he cracked it against the headboard. Yuri paused to look at him, but the other man didn’t seem to even care, his gaze trained on his hand and what it was doing.

Yuri let go for a moment, licking at his hand, before gripping him again. This time the slide of his hand was slicker, easier, and he twisted his palm over the head of Otabek’s cock lightly. The legs under him tensed slightly, and he could hear Otabek’s ragged breathing. Like he was barely holding on.

“Yura, that isn’t-- I’m-- _It’s not fair_ ,” he whined, and Yuri smirked.

“It’s not a contest,” he cooed, “There’s no prize for lasting long.” His hand tugged once, twice more, and then the other went to cup his balls. Otabek bucked his hips into his hand, and with one more twist of Yuri’s hand, he jerked slightly, coming all over his fingers.

Yuri couldn’t help but feel smug about that, he supposed, because the entire thing had lasted _maybe_ two minutes. And it didn’t matter, because it was good, it had been so _good_.

Otabek shifted, pulling Yuri towards him for another kiss, this one sweet and quick. Yuri grabbed at his shirt, wiping at Otabek-- much to his protest-- before settling into his side. Resting his head against his chest, not caring that the both of them sweaty and tired and in need of a shower.

Otabek’s hand found his scalp, pressing against it gently. Yuri hummed lightly, sinking into the feeling of his fingers carding through the silky strands of his hair. This wasn’t new, they’d done this in years past-- but Yuri had never realized just how much he had missed it. Missed this _closeness_. Craved it.

“I wonder what Grandpa will say,” Yuri muttered, a silly thought.

“Yura, can we _not_ talk about him right now?” Otabek’s chest rumbled with his words, underneath Yuri’s cheek.

“He’d be relieved,” Yuri continued, not caring for the other man’s request. “He always thought you were a good one.” When Otabek didn’t respond, Yuri pulled away slightly, glancing up at him. “It was hard for you, huh? With your parents and everything.”

Otabek’s hand paused in his hair. “You have no idea,” he said quietly. “I was so determined to make them happy.”

“I know they’re devout and all--”

“Yura--”

“ _But,_ if God was so against something like this, then why do we exist?” The question tumbled out of his mouth with hushed urgency. “Isn’t he the one who made us for each other?” Yuri wasn’t religious, and Otabek _barely_ was, but tradition was as thick as blood was, where he came from. “I mean, you aren’t planning on just _leaving_ \--”

“I already promised you, I’m not going anywhere,” Otabek said, hushing him.

“But you’ll have to go home,” Yuri said, as it suddenly sunk in. Otabek might have shown up on his doorstep, but he wasn’t _from_ there.

“I would think it’s obvious,” Otabek huffed. “My home is wherever you are, Yura.”

It was such a cheesy line, that Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle. “What a fucking sap.”

“Yes, but I’m your sap.” The words mirrored his from earlier, where he proclaimed that he was Yuri’s moron. Which led to the memory of Otabek before him, proclaiming that he’d be the only one he’d ever get on his knees for. Yuri’s legs were still jelly at that particular display.

“You sure know how to make someone happy,” Yuri sighed, content.

“And are you?”

“ _Obviously_.” Otabek let out a breath of relief as Yuri pulled away from him, making an excuse about setting his phone alarm for the morning.

 

_Yuri [2:13AM]: Your advice was fucking prophetic, Katsudon._

_Yuri [2:13AM]: Otabek showed up on my doorstep tonight._

_Katsudon [2:14AM]: Otabek?_

_Katsudon [2:14AM]: Wait, why would Otabek…?_ _  
_

_Katsudon [2:15AM]: WAIT._

 

Yuri smiled, imagining Yuuri’s face, as he realized exactly what he meant.

 

  _Katsudon [2:16AM]: Is this… are you good?_

 

 Yuri had been typing a reply, when Otabek muttered something tiredly. “I know it’s about four years to late, but I love you, Yura.”

Yuri’s toes curled at the words.

 

 _Yuri [2:18AM]: Yeah, everything is fucking perfect_.

 


	6. Epilogue: Permeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is peeps, here's the Epilogue! Notes to follow at the end!
> 
> This isn't beta'd so... Sorry in Advance, LOL.

 

**_Epilogue_ **

**_Permeance_ **

**_  
_ ** _ Permeance is the measure of the ability of a material, to support the formation of a magnetic field. It is directly affected by how strong the magnetic pull is. _

 

* * *

 

 

**_1_ **

Otabek’s parents weren’t surprised.

In fact, no one was, but that didn’t really matter, because the only people that Yuri needed to be accepted by were his eventual-future-in-laws. He and Otabek hadn’t talked about that yet, but damned he’d be, if he didn’t put a ring on it.

Yuri had never visited Almaty-- Otabek had always come to Moscow-- so he didn’t know really what to expect. The city was a thriving center of culture, and Yuri was blinded by how…  _ modern _ it was. He wasn’t sure what he expected, really, but it wasn’t this.

The family home, however, was further out, closer to the countryside. Beka’s family was wealthy and it showed, and not for the first time, Yuri felt incredibly inadequate.

Otabek had warned them. Yuri remembered his side of the phone call, the night after he’d shown up on his doorstep. He remembered the harsh whispering in Kazakh, punctuated by on occasional curse in Russian and Otabek’s pleading tone. It wasn’t often that he sounded desperate, but Yuri wondered if he was worth the risk of potentially losing his family.

Yuri wasn’t stupid, he knew that he wasn’t what they  _ expected _ of their son. He wasn’t a devout Muslim, he wasn’t a successful business man, he couldn’t give Otabek children. Thank fuck that Otabek didn’t give a shit about any of that.

Otabek’s mother was the easiest of the two to please. Yuri had loved her dearly when he was young, and she had always accepted him with open arms. She had known that his mother was dead to him, and she had always promised to love him as her own.

He hadn’t seen her since he was fourteen, he realized as they stood on the porch of their home. She looked older, lines wrinkling the skin around her eyes and mouth attractively. She there, pensive almost, like she was unsure what to do. Especially when her eyes fell onto Beka’s hand, pressed gently against Yuri’s back.

But Yuri demanded to hug her, and she complied, tugging him tightly to her. “Look at you,” she said in accented Russian, pulling back to look at him properly. He towered over her now, no longer this thin and gangly teenager who tripped over his own limbs. And her smile was warm with love, if still hesitant.

Otabek came up behind him, slipping an arm around Yuri’s shoulder. His mother’s grin faltered the slightest bit, and she must have seen Yuri’s do the same, because the next thing she did was reach out to grasp his hand gently.

“It will take time,” she said, “to get used to this. But that is all.”

Otabek’s father was the tough nut to crack.

Yuri wasn’t ever sure that the man liked him, even as a kid, but he was  _ positive _ he hated him now. Because if looks could kill, this man would have murdered him thrice over, he was sure.

Yuri reached out to shake his hand, and Otabek’s father refused, his eyes narrowed in what looked like offense. Yuri expected it though. What he  _ didn’t _ expect, was the heated gaze of the man’s wife.

“Sabir!” she chastised, reaching out to swat him.

“Aidana--” he hissed back, turning to her, but stopped dead the moment that her glare narrowed into a silent challenge. Yuri watched as the man swallowed thickly, before taking his hand reluctantly. His grip was tight and stiff, but it was a start at least.

  
  


**_2_ **

For Otabek, there was no question as to what his future held, because it was wherever Yuri found himself.

Yuri nailed his audition, and with it came the title of  _ First Principle Male _ . Suddenly, he was the most important male ballerino in the entire company and Otabek was so fucking proud.  

When the topic of moving in with each other came to a head, Yuri was uncharacteristically freaked out.

“How can you be so calm about this? This is a  _ big _ decision,” he’d snapped through the phone line. “We have to  _ think _ about this.”

“What is there to think about?” Otabek asked, genuinely confused.

“ _ What is there to ask-- _ Otabek, you’re such a moron.” They were words that Yuri used a lot, and every time he did, the blow was lessened.

“The obvious choice is that I move to Moscow,” Otabek said simply.

Yuri gaped at him through the tiny little screen, like he hadn’t even considered that he might want to do that. “You-- I mean…  _ You make it sound so simple _ .”

Otabek blinked at that, holding his phone out before him. It  _ was  _ simple. In fact, his entire life had become pretty fucking simple, after he’d made the decision to come after Yuri. “Yura,” he said easily, “You dance in the Bolshoi Ballet, and what do I do? I sweat my ass off in a garage, fixing the occasional bike. Which by the way,  _ I can do anywhere in the world _ .”

He watched as Yuri swallowed, his throat bob just the tiniest of bits. “Beka, I--” he started, and then his resolve steeled. “Well then, you better get that ass over here, because I’m literally  _ dying _ without you.”

Otabek knew and he tugged at his bracelet unconsciously. There was no need to wear it anymore, but he did when they were separated, just to feel the tug. It didn’t pull just his heart to Moscow, it pulled at his entire being.

 

**_3_ **

It was like they had gone back in time.

Yuri eased into Otabek’s touch with an astute familiarity. This was how things were, when they had been young. He’d always been aware, he supposed. Best friends didn’t really  _ cuddle _ on the couch, while watching movies. Otabek would sling his arm around his shoulder, or Yuri would throw his legs across his lap.

But there was a different feel to those touches now. Fingers lingered when they ghosted across skin, and movies were often left forgotten, in favor of each other again. They didn’t need words, only heated touches and lingering kisses.

Yuri had expected Otabek to be hesitant with his affection, but the man had proved him wrong. In fact, it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands off of him. It didn’t matter  _ what _ it was Yuri was doing, Otabek just  _ had _ to touch him.

That day, Yuri brewing tea while wearing sweatpants, staring out the kitchen window like it was actually interesting. Otabek sidled up to him, grabbing onto his hips, just holding. His thumbs rubbed circles across the skin that peeked out over his low-slung waistband.

Yuri turned around to lean against the counter and Otabek adjusted his stance accordingly. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Otabek said, but his dopey grin gave way to his lie. Yuri rolled his eyes, about to pull the kettle off before it whistled, but the other man tightened his grip. “Everything,” he continued with, leaning over and sweeping a hand up to cup Yuri’s face.

Yuri still couldn’t believe that this man was his. He lifted his butt onto the counter, pulling his boyfriend closer, breathing out a quiet, “ _ Beka _ .”

Otabek smiled, leaning up as Yuri leant down, their lips meeting.

When the kettle went off, they ignored it entirely.

  
  


**_4_ **

“I’ve fasted before,” Yuri said with a huff.

Otabek didn’t doubt that; he’d  _ seen _ Yuri skip meals to make his preferred weight for performances, but-- “Not quite like this,” Otabek murmured, rubbing at Yuri’s feet. It’d been a long and grueling day for the dancer, and he’d already dipped his feet in his daily ice bath. They’d moved on to the part where Otabek rubbed at them, massaging ointment into any cuts and bruises that he suffered. “It’s--”

“It can’t possibly be  _ that _ bad,” Yuri cut in, and then winced when Otabek pushed against a particularly tender spot on his arch.

“You can’t eat or drink anything from sunup to sundown. And when I mean  _ anything _ , I mean it. Not even water.”

“Why the fuck would you even do that?” Yuri asked, but then realized how rude that might have been. “I mean, I know it’s what you grew up with and--”

“Yura, it’s fine,” Otabek eased, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement. “You already know that I’m a pretty terrible Muslim, all things considered.” Otabek wasn’t  _ really _ religious, especially when he considered that he had a fucking  _ boyfriend _ . For a global society that is pretty liberal when it came to sexual orientation, Islam fell a little bit behind.

_ Tradition _ , his parents would tell him. Thankfully, they were easing up a bit.

“Then why bother at all?” Yuri asked quietly, a probing question. He didn’t pry to be rude, he seemed honestly curious. Otabek and Yuri talked about a lot of things, but his fall from religion wasn’t a topic that came up a lot-- let alone celebrating  _ Ramadan _ together. At least, only for the one weekend they visited his family.

“Even if I’m not an active observer, there are things that comfort me,” Otabek finally replied with.

“So… things like  _ starving _ yourself throughout the day.”

Otabek couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Less so the starving, more so the  _ connection _ . Eating with the entire family before the sun is up, and then breaking the fast after sundown with a feast. It’s a joyous occasion, and it’s one spent with your family.”

Yuri considered that for a long moment. “So it’s more to do with spending time with them, than your actual beliefs,” he concluded. “Is that why you want me involved?”

Otabek squeezed his foot one last time and then motioned for the other one. Yuri complied immediately. “I want to share everything that I am, with you Yura,” Otabek replied. “And, I think that it might impress my father.”

Yuri perked up at that. “I doubt that, but I’ll try.”

“You’re growing on him.”

“No I’m not, but your mother loves me at least.”

 

**_5_ **

Otabek stared at his hand, his first two fingers up to the second knuckle in Yuri’s ass.

“I’m going to fuck this up,” he said, unsure with himself. He wasn’t a virgin; he’d slept with people-- people that were  _ women _ . This was something different, this was entirely new territory.

Yuri was on his stomach, stretched out like a cat, writhing on the sheets. He could hear his heavy pants, see Yuri’s half-lidded gaze as he looked back to him. It was amazing, how hot and tight Yuri was, and he couldn’t wait until he could just  _ sink into _ that heat and--

But Yuri had been with men before, and Otabek was one thousand percent sure that he wouldn’t measure up.

“ _ Beka _ ,” Yuri practically whined, “I promise you that you won’t. You already are doing so well.”

Otabek doubted that, but didn’t say anything. He moved his fingers a fraction, pulling out and then pushing back in, scissoring them gently. Yuri moaned, and he took that as a good sign, repeating the motion. They’d talked about this, of course, at length. Yuri had given him  _ every _ bit of advice he could have possibly wanted, guiding him into what he liked.

So far, so good, Otabek supposed but who’s to say that it’d last?

“God,” Yuri breathed, as his moved his fingers again. “You’re just, I can’t believe,  _ Fuck--” _  Otabek paused at that, as Yuri ground his hips back hard. “That’s,  _ that’s--” _

“Oh,” Otabek said, leaning forward slightly. He wiggled his fingers around, digging into that particular spot again, and the moan that he wrenched out of Yuri would be worth a hundred deaths, he decided. “That’s the spot, hm?”

“ _ Beka _ ,” the other man whimpered, pressing his hips back, doing anything that he could to get friction.

“Yura, how about another one?” Otabek asked, his free hand flat on the small of his back, soothing the skin there as he pulled his fingers out most of the way. He added another finger when he pressed back in, and he was sure that Yuri just about lost it, grinding against his hand immediately before--

“ _ Fuck, Beka _ ,” he hissed, clenching tight. “Stop--  _ stop-" _ Otabek halted immediately, worried that he’d hurt him, but Yuri only moaned in bliss, a flush haze across his cheekbones. “I was close,” he managed finally. “I didn’t want to until--  _ Otabek, please _ .”

Otabek swallowed thickly at that, removing his fingers gently. This was it, this was where he’d fuck things up, and they would never have sex again. This was-- Yuri had turned around, pressing his fingers against his chest, guiding him to lean back against the headboard.

“Yura,” he started with, but Yuri was already before him, condom in hand. He leaned over to lick along his length, and Otabek threw his head back at the sensation. Then, he slipped the condom on easily, adding a generous amount of lube.

When Yuri slid back up his body, straddling his hips, Otabek gripped him by the waist. “This will be easier,” Yuri said. “You’ve done so well, Beka,” he crooned, taking his cock in hand. And then Yuri was lowering his hips. “I’ll show you,” he promised.

Otabek’s hands tightened at the intense heat, and the tightness and that--  _ God above, he wouldn’t last more than a minute _ . He was going to finish  _ immediately _ , because he’d never felt anything so fucking amazing.

“ _ Beka _ ,” Yuri moaned, sliding himself down slowly. Otabek was almost certain it was for himself, not Yuri, but it didn’t stop his fingers from curling into Yuri’s hip bones tightly at the slow drag. “I fucking swear,” Yuri said, bottoming out, leaning forward. His hair cascading around Otabek’s face, like a waterfall, and he lifted a hand to Yuri’s cheek.

“Yura--”

“It’s different with you,” Yuri said, rolling his hips. Once and then twice, Otabek stock still because if he even  _ thought _ about moving his hips...Yuri’s eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide, as he looked down at him. He looked at him like he was the  _ only _ thing in the world, at that moment. “I’ve done this before, but never like this, never with someone that I love--”

Otabek came immediately, his hips jerking suddenly, and he grimaced. He’d screwed this up, he hadn’t lasted and Yuri would make fun of him forever.

Yuri didn’t though. Instead, Yuri grabbed at his face, rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks and peppering his forehead with kisses. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear until they got the chance to try again.

That time was pure fucking heaven.

 

**_6_ **

Yuri fingered the worn fabric of his grandfather’s armchair. He wasn’t really nervous, but he never liked having important conversations. He liked to live life in the moment, just moving on and forgetting about the  _ was _ \-- but he at least  _ owed _ Grandpa an explanation.

“So uh--” Yuri started, but fell short. His grandfather looked up from the counter in the small kitchen, where he was rolling out pastry dough. He just waited and Yuri was frustrated by the man’s unwavering patience.

“You know that Beka and I are like…  _ together _ , right? I mean I thought it was pretty obvious, but I realized that I hadn’t really told you and--”

“Yuratchka,” his grandfather cut in quietly, as he replied flour to his hands. “Who else would your bracelet be tuned to?”

Yuri blinked at that, and then his lip just wavered the tiniest bits. He waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, only set back to making the pirozhki that he was currently working on.

“I won’t forgive him if he’s late for dinner though. I have expectations.”

Yuri couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face at that.

 

**_7_ **

“Something’s different.”

Otabek looked to the woman at his side, his arms crossed over his chest comfortably. Amita looked more or less the same, felt the same,  _ was _ the same. She was still this unwavering force of friendship and loyalty that still made Otabek’s heart melt. Really, he didn’t deserve her.

“Yeah, Yuri’s eased up a bit,” he agreed. Yuri was off to the side chatting with Amita’s husband, a fair-skinned and blonde man from the States. He looked like a fish out of water, dead smack in the middle of Almaty.

“Oh I wasn’t talking about him,” she said lightly, smiling at Otabek. And he knew that look-- the one where she just  _ knew _ whatever it was he was hiding. “I meant you. You look happy, Beks.”

Otabek opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously and Amita spoke again. “You know, it’s  _ okay _ . I know that you wanted us to both be happy together, and we would have been I think. But look at us now-- this isn’t  _ just _ happiness, this is something else.”

“This is where we’re meant to be,” Otabek finally said and Amita hummed in agreement. “I’m right where I’m needed.”

She turned to him, pulling him into a tight hug, which he awkwardly returned. “I’m so proud of you,” she said, close to his ear. “I’m so,  _ so _ proud.”

“There’s a lot of things we still have to work through,” he muttered, and she pulled away, a frown tugging across her face. She reached out to push back a curl from his face. She knew, she  _ knew _ . Family, traditions and breaking all of that. She’d been through it though, and she’d recovered well enough.

He would too. He had to.

“That’ll take time,” she said, letting go of him. “Until then, there are more pressing matters. Do you think Yuri would prefer ‘Uncle’, or ‘Big Brother’?”

 

**_8_ **

 

“How long have you loved my son, exactly?”

Yuri froze in his chair, clasping his fingers nervously together. He’d talked to Beka’s mother about many things before-- even embarrassing things-- but this was one topic they’d always slid right over.

She noticed his hesitation, offering him a small smile. Reaching out between them, she took his hand into hers, squeezing tightly. “This isn’t an interrogation,” she said quietly. “I’m only trying to understand.”

Half a year into their relationship, and things with still awkward. Otabek had warned him. Yuri  _ knew _ what he was getting into, that not everyone was like his grandfather and just accepted what was fact.

Cause you know, Yuri and Otabek were obviously  _ made _ for each other.

“For as long as I can remember,” Yuri finally sighed. They sat in the small garden that graced the Altin family residence, which was lit up by brilliant flowers in the high time of spring. “I know that’s a weird answer, but it’s true. Like, I can’t--” He paused, trying to find a way to explain it. “He’s always been this solid presence, you know? And after he fell into my life, I just couldn’t imagine it without him.”

Aidana seemed to think about his words, nodding quietly as she looked out at the flowers.

“That extends to you as well,” Yuri said quietly, his thumb rubbing across the back of her hand. “I’ve never really had a mom and you always just kinda… filled that spot for me, you know?”

“Oh Yuri, you know that I love you dearly,” she replied easily.

Yuri swallowed thickly at that. “I know that I’m not exactly what you imagined for your son. I’m not Muslim, I can’t give him a family, I’m not--”  _ A woman _ , his brain finished, and he punctuated the thought with a sigh.

“I knew that you were trouble, the moment you tumbled through that door with him,” she said, her lips twisted in humor. But she didn’t sound angry, only mildly amused as she sifted through old memories. “We’ve only ever wanted the best for Otabek,” she continued with. “Perhaps in our effort to give him that, we overlooked what that would actually be.”

“Mrs. Altin--”

“Yuri, you  _ better _ call me  _ Mom _ .” The careful warning in her voice wasn’t one to be trifled with.

His mouth snapped shut. She pulled her hand from his, turning in her chair to face him squarely. “You’ll have to forgive us,” she said to him softly. “We are learning, but most of all, our son’s happiness is the most important thing to us.I am glad that happiness is  _ you _ .”

“But will it ever be okay?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Oh child, of  _ course _ it will be. My husband will take longer, but he’ll come around. Until then, I’ll just smack him every time he  _ thinks _ about saying something.”

Yuri smiled at that and she reached out to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You bring such happiness to Otabek. I honestly would have never thought I’d see it.” And then her hand slid to his wrist, thumbing at his bracelet. “Allah has brought you into our lives for a reason. We’d be fools to turn you away.”

Yuri didn’t really know what to say, so he settled on, “ _ Thank You _ .”

 

**_9_ **

Otabek wasn’t sure what he expected it to feel like, but it definitely wasn’t  _ this _ .

Yuri was so hot, filling him perfectly and Otabek was pretty sure that the moment he even thought about twitching his hips, he wasn’t going to last.

“ _ Fucking Christ _ , Beka,” Yuri moaned, one hand tightly latched onto his hip, the other one holding Otabek’s leg up against his chest and over one shoulder. He moved to tug his hips back, but Otabek reached out.

“Wait,” he breathed and Yuri stopped dead in the motion. “It’s not-- I just--  _ I need a moment, that’s all _ .”

Yuri was flushed red, smoothing the hand on his hip up and over his chest. “Yeah,  _ yeah _ , that’s a good idea,” he managed, and it Otabek knew that man at all, he would think that Yuri was in  _ pain _ .

Honestly, he’d never thought he’d be in this position. Otabek wasn’t the authority of gay relations, but everything he’d read had made it clear that there was a  _ top _ and a  _ bottom _ , and that they usually didn’t switch. Yuri had  _ laughed _ at that ideal, stating that it was utter nonsense.

Which led to Otabek asking if he had ever topped. And Yuri replied that he never had, which made Otabek’s heart lurch, because that was something that they could share together.

Yuri’d been nervous, when he pressed in, hesitant. And he was still nervous, sitting there, cheeks flushed and his fingers rubbing patterns on Otabek’s hip bone.

“Okay,” Otabek said finally, “You can--”

“ _ Finally _ ,” Yuri moaned, pulling back his hips and pressing them forward again. It was a slow and calculated movement, and it left both of them breathless. “Are you--”

“I’m  _ perfect _ ,” Otabek breathed.

“Good, because this is about to be over,” Yuri said quickly, shifting his hips again. “Cause you’re--  _ Jesus fucking christ, is this what I feel like _ ?”

Probably, not that he had anything to compare to-- but Otabek didn’t answer his blabbering. Instead, he shifted his own hips, meeting the next thrust and Yuri’s voice pitched deep and low. And then Yuri adjusted his angle slightly, sliding back in with a little more force.

True to Yuri’s warning, he didn’t last much longer, sliding over that edge with stuttering hips and Beka’s name tumbling from his lips.

Later, once cleaned up and laying in bed, Yuri said, “I know I’m like a fucking broken record or whatever, but I love you.”

He was laying against Otabek’s chest, skin sweaty and hot. Otabek ran a hand through his hair gently before leaning down to kiss his forehead. He didn’t need to respond. There were no words that could convey what he felt, because at that moment  _ I love you _ seemed like it wasn’t enough. But Yuri knew.

Yuri had always known.

 

**_10_ **

It was strange, to have the Altin’s around for Christmas. It was even  _ stranger _ to hold Christmas at their house, for obvious reasons. But the moment that Otabek had asked them about visiting Yuri’s father in Moscow for the holiday, his mother had waved it off.

“Nonsense,” she’s said. “We’ll host him here.”

Their house was currently decked out in green and red, and even sitting there as he wrapped presents, Yuri was still pretty fucking surprised.

“Dad’s more chipper than usual,” Maya said with humor. The entire group turned to look at the man-- who was currently chatting with Nikolai-- and he looked anything but.

“He’s just angry Mom made him host Christmas,” Otabek drawled, pressing his finger against a length of ribbon, so his sister could knot it off. Yuri had always loved Maya. She was the entire opposite of Beka. She was loud and opinionated, and most important of all-- always right.

At the same time, he had no idea how her husband Seung-gil had lasted so long. He had no idea what he would have done, if this spitfire of a woman had flown across the world and shown up on his doorstep. 

And then he glanced to Beka. It seemed that trait ran within the family. 

“I’m just glad there’s alcohol,” Yuri chimed in, sipping at a glass of wine. “I know your parents don’t really drink, but I cannot do this holiday sober, I fucking swear.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Otabek replied thoughtfully. “They actually seem to be getting along.”

They all looked to the pair again, and Otabek’s father cracked a small smile at something his grandpa had said--  _ and Yuri was pretty sure he’d die of shock _ . “Yeah no, there’s  _ definitely _ not enough alcohol here, if they’re going to get along,” Yuri finally said, topping off his glass. “Maya?” he asked, extending the bottle.

“Oh no can do. You know, being pregnant and all.”

Everyone within earshot froze, looking back to her. Otabek’s mouth hung and Yuri was about one thousand percent sure that he’d heard wrong, because there was  _ no fucking way that Maya was _ \--

“You being  _ what? _ ” It was Seung-gil who broke the silence, suddenly standing up, the present he was wrapping completely forgotten on the floor. His cheeks were flushed, and Maya blinked back at him in confusion.

“I… suppose that I could have forgotten to tell you that--”

“ _ Forgotten? _ How do you  _ forget _ something like that?”

“Well I mean, it’s not like it’s a big deal--”

“Maya, how is this not a big deal? There is a  _ child _ literally inside of you--”

“We  _ want _ children, Seung-gil, hence it not being a big deal--”

Yuri looked to Otabek, who still seemed relatively stunned. “Perfect for each other, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed.

“That’s gonna be us in like twenty years.”

“Yeah.”

 

**_11_ **

Otabek couldn’t help the grin that widened across his face, every time he saw his sister. She  _ fucking huge _ now, as Yuri had put delicately one afternoon, leaving her to throw a shoe at him, but Otabek seemed to not be able to get enough of it. And Amita too-- anytime that they facetimed through the phone.

Yuri got it, really he did. Otabek couldn’t help it. Otabek  _ loved _ kids. He  _ loved _ families, he  _ loved  _ all of that. Which is why it left Yuri thinking stupid thoughts that he  _ knew _ he shouldn’t.

Because these were things that he couldn’t give him, you know? And his brain  _ knew  _ that Otabek would literally die, rather than trade him for someone else, but it didn’t help.

One night, they were on the couch together, watching some old movie and snacking on some super unhealthy foods-- the kind of shit that Lilia would kill him over.

“Yura, you’re staring,” Otabek finally said, looking to him with an easy smile across his face. Yuri had his legs thrown over his lap, and per usual, Otabek was rubbing at them. And he must’ve noticed Yuri’s ‘thinking frown’, because he paused in the massage and said seriously, “Yuri, what is it?”

“I just-- Do you--” Yuri paused and took a deep breath. “I know that you wanted kids and shit. Do you feel like that’s a wasted opportunity because of… well, you know.” He motioned between the two of them.

Otabek was quiet for a long moment, before he answered. “You know, I talked with my mother about this, recently,” he said. “I asked her if Maya’s kids would be enough. Do you know what she said?”

“I couldn’t imagine,” Yuri said dryly.

“First, she smacked me on the head, and then she told me that I would be  _ stupid _ not to raise a kid with you.”

Yuri’s heart skipped a beat at that. He knew that  _ Mom _ loved him and all, but he’d assumed that there would just be some things that she’d never be able to overlook-- and this was definitely one of them.

“I have no idea why you think we couldn’t have kids Yuri. Aside from the  _ obvious _ .”

“I just assumed that… well, it’s a lot of work.”

Otabek gave him this look that read,  _ Well Duh _ . “Do  _ you _ want kids?” 

Yuri felt his stomach in his throat, at the question. “I mean… well, I’ve never really--” But that wasn’t true, he’d thought about it a  _ lot _ as of late. Otabek would be so warm with their children, so loving. And Yuri would never be able to overlook the sight. He’d be the  _ perfect _ father.

Him? Not so much.

“I want children with you,” Otabek finally said, squeezing at his feet gently.

“I do too,” Yuri agreed. “I think. Not now. Not soon.”

Otabek nodded. “Shame, because Maya already offered to be a surrogate.”

Otabek narrowly missed the pillow that was thrown  _ directly _ at his head.

 

**_12_ **

“It’s okay. I’m-- I’m okay with… I’m okay with this.”

Otabek had waited a  _ year _ , to hear his father say that. And he wasn’t there to hear it.

“I’m going to ask him to marry me,” Yuri blurted. The man gave him a bewildered look and he winced. Maybe that wasn’t the  _ best _ follow-up to your boyfriend’s father  _ finally _ saying that he’s okay with your  _ very gay relationship that goes against everything that he knows _ . But it’s what he said.

“Good,” his father finally said. “It’s about time. I’m surprised that Otabek hasn’t asked first.”

Yuri was very sure that he was planning to, and he was going to beat him to the punch.

“You’re good for him,” Sabir Altin said quietly. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, over this year and you’re just… you’re  _ good _ .”

Yuri wished that he was videotaping this, because he would never,  _ ever _ hear it again. And then the man shifted, holding out his hand. And Yuri stared at it, really  _ stared _ at it, as Sabir waited.  

Yuri took hold and gripped tightly, unable to hold back the smile that spread across his face. 

 

**_One Year_ **

It wasn’t easy riding tandem on Otabek’s motorcycle. It was an ancient thing not built for two people, restored to its prime, glossy and polished to perfection. Because that was just  _ Otabek _ , perfection personified.

At least to Yuri.

They’d paused to take a break, Otabek kicking down the bike stand. Yuri pulled off his helmet and shook out his hair-- which felt odd, because he’d recently cut it. It around his chin and his head felt lighter than it had in years.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“We’re almost there,” Otabek promised, but refused to give up anymore.

Yuri wasn’t sure what  _ almost there _ meant, but they were currently in the Kazakh Steppes, literally a half-day away from civilization. And yeah, it was fucking  _ gorgeous _ scenery, with the rolling green hills and mountains and valleys but--

Well, Yuri was a city kind of guy, and this was way too wilderness-y for his liking.

After their short break, they suited back up, Yuri slinking behind Otabek on the narrow seat. Two hours later, they pulled off the main road, favoring a worn dirt path. Otabek finally pulled to a stop, near the top of a hill crest, overlooking the area.

“Okay, spill it. Where the fuck are we?” Yuri asked, shaking out his legs from the long ride.

“You know how you always make fun of my  _ Life Changing Year Long Ride _ ?”

Yuri blinked at that-- how could he forget? Only Otabek could travel throughout the entirety of Central Asia on his bike, only to come back from it a better man. Yeah, he made fun of that, but Yuri meant it with only the utmost love.

“On my way back home,” Otabek continued, “I passed through this area. And this is where I was, when I decided that everything was going to be okay. That everything with Amita was fine, that I was my own person, and that my life was going to be perfection from then on out. I’d do my own thing, live my own life and I was  _ good _ .”

They’d never really talked about this, Yuri realized belatedly. They’d never really talked about that ride, or the thoughts that Otabek had or realized.

“They day that you’re bracelet turned on, changed my life. Suddenly, I was having a crisis again. Suddenly, everything wasn’t  _ okay _ . And then you started going on about how you didn’t have time for it, how the tug was just  _ annoying you _ . And I’m sitting there thinking that I can’t say anything, because I don’t want to be the one to  _ ruin _ it all.

“When it got bad enough for me to lose focus on everything, I took a ride. I saddled up my bags and hit the road again, but this time I only made it a day, because this is where I stopped. And this was where I realized how fucking stupid I was to not go to you.”

Yuri felt the air leave his chest as Otabek reached into his pocket, and he knew, he just  _ knew  _ what Otabek was about to do.

“Yes,” Yuri said, before Otabek could properly ask. The other man paused, looking at him, his face crinkled in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re going to ask me to marry you, right? The answer is yes.” He watched as Otabek’s breath hitched, and he swallowed thickly. “I mean, I kinda already told your Dad that  _ I _ was going to ask, but you beat me to it I guess.”

“Yura, you--”

“But I mean, the answer is fucking  _ obvious _ \--”

Otabek crossed the space between them, pulling him close as wrapped his arms around him. “Yura,” he whispered, and dammit, Yuri wasn’t about to  _ fucking cry _ . Otabek pulled back, his hands on his cheeks, searching up into his eyes, and he looked  _ so happy. _

He kissed him, and Yuri responded enthusiastically, throwing his arms around his neck leaning down into him. They enjoyed that moment, long and sweet, before pulling away.

“What a fucking journey, you know,” Yuri finally said, breathless. “From the beginning to get to here.”

“Yeah,” Otabek agreed with a laugh. “You’ll have to forgive an old man for being stubborn and taking too long.”

“You know, I don’t even care anymore,” Yuri said, smiling. “Because in the end, I still  _ get _ the old man. How lucky is that? Pretty fucking lucky.”

But luck had nothing to do with it, it was all the work of fate. Yuri had been pretty stupid to ignore that tug in the beginning, and he was glad that Beka hadn’t. Otherwise, they’d be in very different places now, which was something he didn’t even want to think about.

“You know, it’s only smooth sailing from here on out.”

“Nothing with you is ever  _ smooth _ , Yura,” Otabek replied wryly.

“No, but you love me anyway,” Yuri said with a grin.

“Always,” Otabek agreed. “Forever,” he promised.

Yuri preened at the words. Forever was good.

Forever was something that they could do.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT. A. WILD. RIDE. 
> 
> I started Magnetic because I wanted something that was more along the lines of a short story. This is officially, the FIRST fanfiction that I've EVER finished (YEAAAAH). Thank you to everyone for all the kind words and reviews, and for encouraging me onwards! I had so much fun writing this. 
> 
> Just a reminder that I'm on [Tumblr](https://missmarquin.tumblr.com/), and I LOVE people asking me questions. Have any for me? Hit me up. 
> 
> Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!


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